Sixteen Years After Catastrophe
by Jan. McNeville
Summary: Almost a fanfic of a fanfic, this story is almost sixteen years after Hermione's mysterious kidnapping...she and Snape are now both professors. Chapter 74 now uploaded and now beta'd by the fabulous Shara Michelle.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: I wrote this for the fun of it, and if it seems like the world's first fanfic of a fanfic, then it probably is. It's set fifteen years after Harry, Hermione & Ron graduated, and it owes a lot to the HG/SS fics I keep seeing here. Disclaimer-I own nothing whatsoever except my socks and the occasional Coke can. Here you go.

Chapter One: The New Fifth-Year

"Professor Granger!"

A harried-sounding voice was ringing through the hallways yet again. "Professor Granger, where are-oh." Professor Minerva McGonagall had just located the out-of-breath Potions teacher, who looked as if she'd run up every flight of stairs from the dungeon to the hallway. "What on earth were you doing, then, Hermione?"

"I was just-uh, running, I guess." She was also blushing like a radish.

"A fine year it will be at this school when you don't wind up surprising us all terribly somehow," the older professor observed dryly. "Have you heard that we'll have a new student going into the fifth-year?"

"No, Professor, I haven't." Hermione had never quite mastered not being a know-it-all. "Well, technically, I have now, but I hadn't heard until you just told me."

"Calm down, Hermione, I get it!" the transfigurator protested. "And you've been teaching here for five years, at the least you could call me Minerva."

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," Hermione sighed, quite defeated. "I guess I've never quite gotten used to your not being my professor and responsible for all of my test grades."

"Even though it's been nearly sixteen years?"

"Exactly." Hermione ruffled the bushy brown hair that still refused to go straight as an adult. "How long'd it take for you to get used to not playing at Quidditch?"

"The Gryffindor team? I thought you knew-I _never_ have." They both laughed cheerfully over that, knowing full well she could have gotten on a broom and Chased at any minute, given half the opportunity. "Oh, well. I suppose it's going to be a good year…little Carrie Wood's going into second year. She's shaping up to be a Keeper just like her father."

"And how about the Weasley twins?" Professor McGonagall shuddered. "Cousins, I mean, but it's so hard to not keep thinking-"

"Of their fathers. Well I know!" The 'twins' in question were a pair of double cousins, the children of Fred and George Weasley, who had neatly married twins themselves. "I sometimes believe their whole existence was just a kind of prank from the greater power."

"I like their shop, though. Bought a lot of the Disappearing Ink Quills last Friday out at Hogsmeade."

"Hermione, you're a professor!" The brown-eyed teacher sheepishly hung her head. "I find that Extra-Super Strength Dungbombs are really more in keeping with our position."

"You honestly use them?"

"Anything to keep students away from the hallways where we store those little secrets, wouldn't you think? The old Dungbombs only lasted for two hours, but these will keep stinking a week. Anyone who says that I'm not proud of the two Weasley brothers is very much mistaken." Professor McGonagall sighed a little tiredly, then, recalling a trio of students wreaking havoc with a scrap of old used parchment and glancing at Hermione. "Their little brother was always the fun one, too. Have you had any owls from Ron yet?"

"Three, asking how to cure burns and spontaneous sprouting of spicules." Professor McGonagall grinned, imagining Ron as a bright red-haired porcupine. "I somehow don't think becoming an Auror was really the right type of work for old Ron, though he writes me that the pay is excellent. If only he'd learn to skirt the hazards."

"And how is Harry?" Hermione smiled, and drew a moving wizard photo from her robe pocket.

"There's he and Ginny and their new baby daughters."

"Aww!" Professor McGonagall looked at the babies, one red- and one quite black-haired. "Twins always did seem to run in the Weasley family. What have they named them?" The young teacher blushed.

"Lily's the redhead, and I believe the dark-haired one's Hermione Potter. They've asked Ron and I to be their godparents, too."

"That's such an honor!"

"I only hope I don't wind up being turned into a squirrel and riding Buckbeak like poor Sirius Black!" The 'squirrel' thing was a private joke between them, too, as the diligent, bushy-tailed squirrel was secretly Hermione's shape whenever she became an Animagus. She hadn't been pleased with it at first, but, as her husband was quick to point out, 'a squirrel's a damn sight better than a crow.' The only odd result was her addiction to nuts' leaving secret caches all around the office whenever she changed back from practicing, which of course, she tried to make her husband find when he was turned into a crow for his own practice. He found that kind of thing funny.

As of the Muggle year 2008 or so, the Ministry had demanded that all faculty follow suit of the new Headmistress by perfecting their skills as Animagi. This was, of course, one of the first laws handed down by Minister of Magic Albus Dumbledore, close friend of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Her promotion had required a new Head of Gryffindor House, and the new Potions mistress was very happy to be nominated. 

True, even marriages between Hogwarts teachers were rare, but a marriage between two opposing Heads of House was downright unprecedented. Still, the students were doing fairly well with Professors Snape and Granger-Snape, who for the sake of simplicity was usually just called Granger. 

(A/N: Was anyone besides Ms. Hilt expecting that? Ten points to your House if you were.)

"I understand that the new fifth-year is Muggle-born?" Hermione inquired of Headmistress McGonagall.

"Well, we really aren't sure of that, actually. She was kicked out of her last several orphanages for performing what turned out to be magic, except that she's never been trained or taught properly. After the fall of the Dark Lord, we'd been expecting a few of these cases."

"What do you mean?"

"You recall the less-than-savory characters of some of those Death Eaters, Hermione." Professor McGonagall's face was a study in profoundest of human disgust. "It's probably likely that our new fifth-year is the product of an unwilling union-the worst of that old Lucius Malfoy's Muggle-tortures."

"You mean she's probably a half-blood from rape?" Hermione was shocked and immediately drawn into sympathy for the late-started fifth year. "Have they told you her name, even?"

"No, they've just given me this ugly Muggle file." Professor McGonagall opened it on one of the ample straight balustrades, pointing out the list of offenses committed by their new fifth-year. "'Attempting to run away'-twenty-eight times, 'possession of weapons'-twenty-six times, 'forgery'-what's that, Hermione?"

"Writing someone else's signature or handwriting."

"Oh, well, she's done that quite a bit, too, 'possession of illegal alcohol, with or without attempt to sell.' Does that mean she had it and might have wanted to sell it?"

"We can change her tastes to butterbeer, I'm sure." Hermione read down the list, pausing at the child's most unusual crimes. "'Kidnapping and riding of elephants'? Well, maybe we've got that Beater we had needed. Oh, here, 'possession and training of rodents'-thirty-five offenses. Can't a kid keep a pet anymore?"

"Are you really sympathetic to pet rats?" Minerva asked in shock. Hermione looked grim and fingered the scar that corkscrewed up her right wrist.

"I didn't mean it that way, just that maybe she wanted a pet." Professor McGonagall apologetically put an arm around her. "And Wormtail was quite different from the ordinary rat, as I recall. It was only a kidnapping, Professor, you don't need to worry about me forever."

"You were one of my students and you disappeared out of my care. I am always going to worry about you."

"Should I expect to feel the same if it ever happens to one of the new ones?"

"What happened to you won't happen to them, but yes, you will feel responsible."

"I haven't even seen this new kid and I'm already feeling responsible." Minerva smiled.

"That's what your husband would poke fun at, calling it our maternal instinct." She immediately went white, realizing she had just made yet another incredibly tactless remark. Hermione's chronologically thirty-third birthday was approaching and the Granger-Snapes still remained childless. But the young professor just shrugged it all off.

"You know, I think that's why he's so bloody abrasive." Minerva looked quizzical, and she clarified: "Extreme overdose of the maternal instinct."

"Now, Hermione,"

"No, seriously, he's like a mother hen. You should see him around the puppies Hagrid gave us last Christmas, he's worse than a parent."

"I'll never understand why you refer to -them as puppies in the plural sense. They've only got four legs between the three."

"Just because it's three heads doesn't mean it isn't three personalities!"

"You and your liberation front. I remember when you tried to set free all the house-elves and they wouldn't do it. You were always such a-"

Suddenly a loud noise interrupted their conversation. It was as if a massive horn had just blown somewhere off far in one of the corridors, and they knew it meant the start of yet another term.

"I'd better take this, then," Professor McGonagall decided, picking up the new student's folder and gathering all the papers up.

"Wait!" Hermione called. "What's the new student's name?" McGonagall checked the name on the cover.

"Julia… Julia Starcatcher."

'Oh, well, then.' Hermione thought, preparing to meet the throng of nervous first-years. 'I only hope she isn't crazy.'

*****************************

"So, 'ow many pets d'yeh keep in yehr jacket?" Hagrid was asking the tallish new fifth-year, who pulled a smart-looking ferret from her long purple raincoat. 

"Well, there's Anthony here in this pocket, plus William and Mary, my white mice. That'll be the lot-in this jacket."

"Aren't yeh the girl after my own 'eart, Julie?" Hagrid shook the new girl's hand warmly, with another of his biggest first-day grins. But his expression grew dark as he noticed the looks that the other kids were throwing her. "But I'm a warnin' ye, ther's been a lot o' unpleasant rumors goin' on about ye. Don't y'take it to 'eart, and if yeh need ta, yeh kin visit me anytime out to me cabin." 

"Thanks, Hagrid."

"We kin always talk abou' pets, of school, or summat, especially if all o' them 'pure-bloods' star' makin' a bit o' a fuss. Don' take the buggers seriously, is really what I'm after sayin.'"

"Ah, yes. Non illegitemi carborundum." Hagrid gave Julie a blank look. "It's my motto. In Latin, it means, 'Don't let the bastards get you down.'" Hagrid grinned and warned her:

"Quick! Bes' hurry up, or you'll be late to meet per'fessor Granger!"

"Right then!" She handed him an object and ran off. Only after she was gone did Hagrid unwrap a single, freshly baked cookie. It was the size of his hand-outstretched, that is.

"Oatmeal," he observed in relative wonder. "My fav'rite."

There was a buzz of whispers from the first-years who were all either ten or eleven, as the five-foot-five, wild-haired Starcatcher ambled slowily to the foot of the stairs. One kindly little blond-haired girl went up and spoke to her:

"Hello. I'm Chloe Davies." She had a slight French-ish accent. "What House are you hoping to be Sorted into?"

"Oh, me?" Julie hadn't heard the first word about any sorting. "Well, I d'know, I guess, the red one?" She pointed up at the Hogwarts crest above them on the banner, unconsciously aiming to Gryffindor. "I've always had a fondness for lions, or else I'd choose green. That, and snakes give me the creeps."

"Yeah, those Slytherins freak me out, too. I'd rather be in Hufflepuff like my dad, that's the gold one with the pretty badger. You must be a Muggle-born; otherwise you'd know all the Houses. Want me to explain them to you?" Ridiculous as it was, being explained to by an eleven-year-old, Julie had learned long ago to listen to what kids had to say. She agreed and said 'thank you,' allowing the little blond girl to continue. "The blue one with the bird is Ravenclaw, and that's for if you're really clever, and Hufflepuff's for the kids who try their hardest. Slytherin is for really ambitious ones-" the little girl lowered her voice, "or if you're really sneaky, and the great gold lion on the red one is for Gryffindor. That one's for kids who're really brave. See, I'd want to be in that one, myself, but I don't really think I'm brave enough. You'd get into Gryffindor like that!" she snapped her fingers. "I mean, being quarter-giant and all, and still having the nerve to just go into school. That's really impressive." Julie smiled and ruffled her hair in an expression of frustration but not anger. 

"Oh, no, I'm not quarter-giant." 'I don't think,' she was secretly thinking. "I'm really going into fifth year, it's just I started really really late, y'know?" The little girl smiled and looked a little less scared.

"Oh, 'cause I thought that you were Hagrid's cousin!" She pointed up at Julie's wild mess of dark hair, which did indeed in a simple way resemble Hagrid's, in addition to her disparate height. "You must be Julia Starcatcher-then." The words just died on the younger girl's lips and Julie's shoulders sunk fast.

"Look, whatever you've heard about me- well, what you've heard about me's probably true. But I'm not really after any harm, here, I just came because they sent me."

"Oh, my Mom and Dad just said I should be really nice to you," little Chloe Davies explained to the much-older girl. "They said that all the grownups are afraid you might turn out like Lord You-Know-Who."

"Whom?" Julie asked in confusion, but the Professor of Potions at Hogwarts was descending the stair, sending a hush of quiet among the students. Julie looked up, only to realize it had been a profound mistake not to ask for wizard's robes before she'd left Broughton Orphanage. Everyone else was wearing them, and she stuck out like a violet at a funeral. At least her old purple coat had been long, so that they wouldn't see the remade bluejeans, the shirt with different sleeves sewn on, and woven hippie vest dating from her grandmother's time at least. Damnation!

"First-year students and Miss Starcatcher, welcome to your first semester at Hogwarts. I am Professor Granger, and I'll be teaching you in Potions." Hermione was struggling to sound half as austere as she remembered Professor McGonagall's speech to her own class to be. "In a few minutes, you all will be Sorted, into one of four houses where you will live for the remainder of your time here. Your triumphs will earn your House points, while any infraction of the rules will subtract them from your total. The House with the most points at the end of the year will be awarded the House Cup, a prestigious honor and an excuse for very healthy competition-not bloodshed in the corridors." Most of the wizard-born students were grinning, but all of the others, Julia Starcatcher included, looked absolutely petrified. "These doors will open for you into the Great Hall, and you may enter when I return and give the signal. Miss Starcatcher, could I have a word, please?" 

Reluctantly but boldly, Julie strode off after her Professor, who opened a door and motioned at her to follow. Instead of being a stern, proper principal's office, it was a cheery mixed-up broom closet. Professor Granger said something silly about 'Accio school robes,' and instantly Julie found herself bombarded with black uniforms.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Professor Granger instantly helped her to her feet, picking out a set of robes with the Gryffindor crest on them. "I thought that you might like to have these old robes, as you've not got some of you own yet, have to take this patch off, though." The professor pointed her wand at the patch and whispered 'Ravelus Stiticus,' which caused the stitches around the border of the patch to neatly unravel. 

"Uh, thank you…Professor…but-" Julie held up the wizards' robes curiously, "-how do I put 'em on?"

Moments had Julia Starcatcher garbed in the traditional Hogwarts uniform, which looked quite well with her static black hair, Hermione decided. It reminded her of Harry's, or of Severus'. The student's eyes were a deep shade of brown, and her skin was pale and looked quite Irish. There seemed to be a difference in expression beween cleverness and corruption, which the professor didn't really quite trust. The girl's seeming hope of belonging, however, and educated way of speaking, even in slang, reminded her quite strongly of another girl who once had worn the same robes.

"I'd better fix this, though," the girl said, pointing at her wet and tangly hair. Julie pulled off the elastic and began to brush at the rain-soaked mess furiously. "It'll still be wet but not as messy," she explained to her professor, who mumbled 'Thermos Follicus,' instantly drying Julie's hair where it was. "Cripe! You can do that with this…magic?" Professor Granger-Snape nodded. "Oh, that's great! …except I look like a hedgehog now, don't I?" The mirror wasn't lying. Starcatcher had hair every micron as bushy as Hermione's had been when she herself was a student at Hogwarts. "I give up on it, I really do."

"Oh, don't worry. Just pull it back in a ponytail and nobody'll give it the slightest of thought." Julia looked at her mistrustingly, until the professor indicated her own slightly bushy brown hairdo. "It's worked for me for thirty years." The student grinned and pulled back her hair, mentally making a note to the effects of 'Granger-thirty.' 

"Thank you so much, Professor Granger. You teach the Potions class around here?"

"That'd be me, Miss Starcatcher. Do you know abot the Houses and the Sorting?"

"Yeah, a younger kid told me back there. Chloe Davies, I believe her name was."

"Oh, yes, Chloe. I believe I know her parents."

"Pardon me for seeming insubordinate, but you can't have been teaching here that long, ma'am."

"Oh, no, I didn't teach them. Her dad was a few years ahead of me in school, actually."

"Oh, okay, then." Julie looked as though she were about to ask something really innappropriate, but blushed and spit it out. "Professor Granger?"

"Yes?"

"I'd actually like it if you wouldn't call me by my last name-ever." Hermione nodded, and Julie decided to make the whole thing understood. "I know full well that it's not really my last name, and I don't really care that much for my first name, now, either. If you could just refer to me as Julie, I'd appreciate that."

"No problem, Julie. I run into things like that a lot, you know." Well, that was one similarity to Voldemort. "We'd better run, it's almost time to start the Sorting!"


	2. Either Or and Neither Nor

A/N: Well, how was that for huge foreshadowing? I practically did it with a makeup brush. Here goes the next bit, if you can stand to read how the plot works out. Here you go.

Chapter Two: Either Or and Neither Nor

"And finally," Professor McGonagall announced calmly, s if it weren't perfectly obvious that there was one more student in the center of the Great Hall, "we have our new fifth-year student, Julia Starcatcher." It was her turn to be Sorted, so Julie strode up boldly to the chair where the others had been placed on. Little Chloe had been put into Gryffindor, and had, shaking, shook Julie's hand before she went to her table, so she had some small idea of what the nerves would be like as she was Sorted with the hat on. The frayed brim went over her eyes, and she began to hear a voice above the top of her left ear.

"Well, what have we got in this, I wonder? A Gryffindor's mind in a Slytherin's body? Or is it the half way around? Well, it's touch and go for you, miss, unless you've got any other opinion…"

'I don't really care, just Sort me,' Julie thought nervously. The hat continued on.

"Well, that certainly makes a little difference, now, doesn't it? You've got bravery, treachery, cleverness, and cunning all snarled up in this mind of yours, and really no opinion where to go. Are you sure you don't care?"

'I just don't know a thing about either!' Julie thought, and the hat just seemed to sigh.

"Well, if you can think like that, dear…" Julie relaxed a second, hoping it would just get over with at last. _"Then I'd better just leave it a tie then, hadn't I?_ THIS ONE'S A DRAW!" the hat announced, leaving Julie in a state of what felt like permanent mortification.

"What can it mean, a draw?" Hermione whispered to Severus.

"Explain yourself, hat!" McGonagall demanded. Still on Julie's blushing head, the hat began to sing:

"I'm sorry, but it's really so,  
A hat I am, and so I know,  
Which kids are perfect for the blue,  
And red, and gold, and green ones too.  
This girl's got two types in one brain,  
And thus explains my song's refrain  
I'd say I really can't not-nor  
Pick Slytherin or Gryffindor!"

A wave of shocked silence spread over the room, only to be followed by another of muted whispers.

"Yeh mean she's both?" Hagrid inquired.

"This has never, ever happened before," Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you all to start on dinner. Miss Starcatcher, Hermione, Severus, I'll need a word in my office with the three of you."

"I'm, sorry, Professors," Julie tried to explain as they stepped into the office. "I just didn't know which to pick, and I just wanted all the Sorting to be over…I was nervous, y'know?"

"Can't believe they would have put you in Slytherin," Snape dryly observed, only to be poked with Hermione's elbow. 

"That's quite alright, Julie, it's really scary for everyone. Especially when you've heard so close to nothing about the different houses. I'd have done the same thing if I hadn't known then."

"That," Professor McGonagall announced quietly, "is what I intend this meeting to be entirely about. As the Heads of House for Gryffindor and Slytherin, I expect you both to interview Miss Starcatcher and allow her to conclude an opinion. Would that be acceptable to you, Julia?"

"Yes, of course, professor. Which one of them's-"

"That, they will not be allowed to tell you. I don't want bias because the one is-a bit different from the other." McGonagall shot an absolutely withering glance at Snape.

"I suppose I might begin by asking you whether you have ever lied, Miss Starcatcher," the black-haired professor began with a smirking but inquisitive look as he took a seat directly to Julie's left side.

"Oh, but of course, sir!" Hermione grinned a little meanly at Severus as she took the seat to the right.

"Were you ever caught in the library five hours after you weren't supposed to be there?"

"I got caught after four, once." Julie hoped it was a satisfactory answer, but the Defense Against the Dark arts teacher inquired:

"And what were you researching?" Julie blushed like like an undercooked beet.

"I was reading about geneology and race determination among people of the British Isles." Hermione realized exactly why before she said it. "I was trying to find out what nationality I was by my features, see, 'cause I've never known who my parents were or even where I come from, and I was just sort of hoping I might find something, you know?"

"Well, let me see, then," Professor Snape continued. "I believe that it's your turn, Hermione."

"Well, yours was cross-examination, so you could really go next if you-"

"Professors," McGonagall warned, clearly acting as a mediator. "You sort this out or I will put her into Ravenclaw."

"No, wait!" Hermione started. "What's your favorite bedtime story?"

Both Snape and Julie snorted.

"Bedtime story? At an orphanage?" Julie shrugged wryly as she turned to face her new teacher. "The best I could do was reading a fat leather Shakespeare at four using the hall light to read by. You could say I liked _Much Ado About Nothing_ best, though."

"Well, that's er-good, then. Who's your favorite modern author?"

"Chuck Palahniuk."

"Okay, what the hell's he write?" Hermione chipped in to clarify:

"Dark fiction, stuff like _Fight Club_-"

"Okay, now I know it. Very good taste for a fifth-year."

"What would you rather do, find out why something is that's bugging you, or play pranks on your teachers?" She was thinking in terms of how she and Malfoy might have used the Marauder's Map, but clearly Hermione wasn't all that good with questioning.

"You _are_ my teachers. How do you think that I'm going to answer?"

"You admitted before that you can lie, Miss Starcatcher," Snape reminded her, noting the odd little cringe whenever he said her name. "You could always fall back on past policy."

"Well, no, I'd have to say that it'd depend on how much it was bugging me or how annoying the teacher." Julie grinned and Hermione giggled slightly at Snape's somewhat surprised expression, which was a way that he very rarely seemed to look outside of the dungeon.

"What sort of drink do you like best?" she finally challenged, remembering full well the counts of possion of liquor, just to see if young Miss Julie really lied.

"I like sev'ral different kinds of soda, tea, and coffee if you put a little crème de menthe in it." Hermione was startled by her candor about drinking. "I got caught once with a jar of that at school-giving out like, spoonfuls to the bigger kids for their coffee. The stuff at the orphanage was such bloody tar it really needed just a scrap of odd flavor." 

Snape was beginning to realize exactly why the hat had given up on this young fifth-year. It was as if she had been bred to standard as the perfect half-and-half mixture, and he wondered if maybe she was.

"What do you know about these mysterious origins?" Julie's eyes narrowed, but she didn't quite flinch at the peculiar question.

"Well, I was born as a baby, and taken to an orphanage by a man that noone recognized. I was told he'd gave his name as 'Sarvant,' or 'Servant,' or something, and he left without filling out the paperwork. Seemed to have a broken hand. So nobody knew what my real name was, or if I even had one. They picked my first name by someone's closing their eyes and reaching into the Shakespeare. Got Julius Caesar, except there's that fact that I'm a girl, and hence it's 'Julia.' 'Starcatcher' is because of this mark, here." Julie held up her palm to show an asterisk-shaped scar at just an inch or so away from the pad of her thumb. "Have you any other questions about where I came from, because that's really all I know."

"Wow. And speaking of interesting scars, you should see the one that I've got." Hermione was shocked as Severus pulled up the sleeve to show the inside of his left forearm, where the branded Dark Mark had faded into nearly nothing. He very rarely showed it, almost never even to her. "Does this mark mean anything to you?"

"It must have hurt to get it," Julie offered.

"I mean the symbol," Severus explained. The other two professors were surprised completely that 'stupid girl' hadn't somehow gone into that remark.

"I sort of recognize it, yeah," Julie strained to think of where she knew it from. "I had nightmares about it all the time as a real little kid, guess it must've been a rock band whose video scared me or something." 

Suddenly Snape was on his feet, and McGonagall as well.

"I think you see the situation," Severus said to McGonagall, and she nodded in agreement. "Hermione, she must be put in Gryffindor."

"Oh, please don't fight over me, you two!" Julie cried, for some reason unable to bear the thought of these two people fighting. Snape suddenly grinned and pointed to Hermione.

"She's Head of Gryffindor, I'm Slytherin." Julie looked completely nonplussed. "Cripes, you really were confused by that hat. Most people tell it in a second."

"Severus, she honestly hadn't heard a thing about either of the Houses, she was perfectly neutral to each."

"I quite agree, dear." Severus whispered, out of Julie's hearing. "But her knowing the Dark Mark is a sign of something very bad indeed." Snape turned from her then with a frown to face his boss. "I think we'd better send for Albus Dumbledore."


	3. Lord Voldemort Can't Be a Girl

A/N: And now for more plot revelation, plus some proof of how badly I write guy characters, as well as some explanation of the 'incident' McGonagall still worries about from the first bit. Here you go.

Chapter Three: The Dark Lord Couldn't Be A Girl

"Was that old mark on your arm very bad, sir?" Julie inquired of her new professor, who blandly asked her just:

"How do you mean?"

"Well, two things, really, did it hurt and what's the symbol?"

"I will tell you, Julie-" Snape paused in his tracks toward the dungeon. "Is it alright if I call you that, 'Julie'?"

"Quite, in fact it's the name I prefer."

"Oh. Good. Well, I am going to tell you, it did hurt. It's rather faded since the Dark Lord was defeated, but the scar I fear I'll keep." He couldn't help but notice the entirely rapt way she was paying attention to his speaking, as if there might be a pop quiz at any moment that'd she'd need to know his words for. Why, young Julie had twice nearly run into the columns that were supporting the ceiling. It was odd, and yet, familiar. "Have you been told anything about a Dark Lord, otherwise known as Voldemort or You-Know-Who?"

"Some little kid in the first years said you're all afraid that I'm going to turn into this you-know-who. Or is it you-know-whom?"

"Cripes, you really are an innocent."

"Scarcely."

Julie's sarcasm decided to unveil itself.

"I mean of the wizarding world!" As Snape was preparing the ingredients for the two potions they'd be needing now that Dumbledore was on his way, Julie listened to his story about how the Dark Lord was defeated.

"Many years ago, before you or I were even born, there was a wizard who was so completely evil that he tried to take over the world. His given name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, but he disliked it because it'd been his father's and thus changed it into 'I am Lord Voldemort.' You see, his father was a Muggle who'd abandoned Tom before the poor boy was even born, his mother died in childbirth, and the child grew up in an orphanage. Much like yourself, I would say. Anyway, he began to gather a group of followers called the Death Eaters, whose job it was to wreak his havoc over all the things he told them. It meant killing, it meant torturing, and it meant rending families and people's lives apart. It was most decidedly not a pretty pastime."

"You were one of them?"

"Ashamedly, yes. But then I left them, and came into the acquaintance of one Albus Dumbledore, whom you will be meeting very shortly. Under his tutelage I regained my sense of right again, and came to work both at this school and as a double agent against Voldemort, who happily met the first of many downfalls about three years later."

"_Many_ downfalls?"

"It took a couple of tries for us to kill him. When old Voldemort attempted to kill a baby boy named Harry Potter- -tell me you've heard about him?" Julie shook her head, ignorant. Snape smiled. "Oh, good. Well, his mother gave her life to save him, and as a result Voldemort could never touch the boy, until the end of his fourth year here at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord, who had been banished into an unstable spirit without a body, managed to rise again with the aid of his coward servant, Wormtail."

"I've heard those words said to that name before!- -but, please, go on."

Snape noted that reaction suspiciously and continued:

"Alright. At that time began the war effort, the fight to prevent Voldemort's rising to his old and greater power. The struggle continued for three long, bitter years, with gains and losses from both sides of the table. Finally, Wormtail kidnapped a lovely Hogwarts student, just because she happened to be a close friend of Mr. Potter's. She was missing for close to ten months, during which the Avada Kedavra curse was performed on Voldemort in a final showdown battle by in excess of twenty-five wizards. I will say that I, myself, was one of them. The servant, Wormtail, vanished. Do you know what time of year we defeated the Dark Lord?"

"January?" Julie asked nervously, knowing it was the time of her very own birthday.

"Quite correct. Have you any idea why I'm brewing these two potions?"

Julie hung her head sadly, unconsciously letting the remnants of bangs fall across her face just like the teacher's.

"You think that I'm the next Lord Voldemort."

For some reason Snape didn't really want to bully _this_ student.

"Not really, but just in a manner of speaking." Despite his unusual kindness, Julie still looked close to tears. "I think they're thinking about reincarnation, which may have been what Wormtail intended when he gave you that scar there."

"How are you suspecting that I'd ever met Wormtail?"

"Because you've got the scar of a wand failure, Julie. I went to classes with Wormtail, he managed to give himself several in the course of a year. Only magic folk can fix them, and you, being out with Muggles, couldn't. That's the type of scar it leaves, and no magic can change that."

"Oh." Julie still looked very somber. Then suddenly her mood picked back up. "Could you tell me a little more about the student?"

"Well…she was brown-haired. And quite pretty."

"Could you be a little more specific? What did she do, what happened when Wormtail kidnapped her, did you ever get the poor girl back?" Again, she was being terribly and amusingly sarcastic. Snape bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

"Well, we did get her back, and she helped to cinch the evidence for some Death Eaters' execution." Julie turned an interrogative look on her professor.

"Because _I_ suspect you liked her. After all, you called her 'lovely,' and you did seem furiously bitter at that Harry Potter for being her friend and so getting her kidnapped, just seemed to add up to me, y'know, sir." Snape was quite pale at the Starcatcher girl's accuracy and candor. "Was she alright, though, after all the mess with Wormtail?"

"She was alright," Snape admitted, "Though her memory wasn't- -quite. She had only hazy recollections of the whole ten-month episode, all three-hundred-fifteen days, seven hours, and twenty-five minutes of it."

Julie raised an eyebrow and said smugly:

"Ah. I can tell now that you missed her terribly. Was she your daughter, or a niece, or a cousin? Or was she maybe just a girl that you loved?"

Quite abruptly, Snape stood and took young Julie by the shoulders. 

"It is never _just_ a girl that you love." Julie understood his meaning and retreated just a little. Very quietly and respectfully she asked:

"But did _you_ ever get her back?"

Snape's hawkish face twisted to a triumphant smile.

"Yes, Julie, I did."

*********************************

They returned with several bottles of potions, and McGonagall was startled to see the fifth-year Julie had even been allowed to carry up a few bottles. Normally Snape rarely ever trusted the steadiness of even his most steady and oldest students for carrying the vials, but it seemed that he and Julie'd bonded over something in the dungeons. 'Oh, well,' she thought. 'It seems he bonded with the first one.'

"Ah, Severus," the stately old wizard there greeted. It was Dumbledore. Snape put down the potions and all but rushed into his arms. "Married life agrees with you, still, I see." They clapped hands on each other's backs like quasi-father and son, then drew apart as Snape prepared to introduce his brand-new pupil. 

"Professor-I mean Minister Dumbledore, this is Julie Starcatcher." The old wizard, who seemed quite peculiarly not old, in spite of the white beard that may have reached his knees in places, offered his hand to a profoundly scared Julie. She shook it as Snape explained that this was the great Albus Dumbledore. 'Well, obviously,' she thought, nervously getting a little snippy but restraining the words. The wizard looked into what seemed like her very soul through her eyes, and her cheeks reddened.

"Hello, Julie."

"It's nice to meet you, sir," she answered politely, somehow wondering if 'sir' were indeed the right address for this mystical and almost kingly figure.

"The pleasure is all mine, dear. Now, do you know anything about why we have brought you here with all these potion-bottles?"

"Either you think I'm a reincarnated Voldemort or the child of a Death Eater. Your job is probably going to be to find out and that's what all the potion-things are for." 

Dumbledore smiled and asked of Severus:

"Absolutely no experience of the wizarding world?"

"None, sir. I just had to tell her about the Dark Lord in the first downstairs."

"Dear me," the old man exclaimed, not unkindly. "It appears that no matter what we do with you, Miss Julie, you are going to be a profoundly different wizard from anything we have ever experienced. Rather a lot of the students-in fact, all of them, I believe, come in with at least some minimal knowledge of magic and it's history. You, however, have pitiless close to none. You're either a Riddle or a Potter or something completely new. I earnestly hope you aren't the first one."

"Actually, sir, so do I." Julie looked so downright flustered that Dumbledore grinned and motioned for her to sit down. "So, what are you planning to do to me?"

"Do to you? Why, nothing, my dear, unless you agree to the test. We're just going to give you a little something known as Veritaserum, which is one of the most potent truth potions we have available, as well as one that enhances your memory. It isn't because we don't trust you that we're using the truth serum, just that-"

"Oh, don't worry, sir, _I_ wouldn't trust me, either." Julie had had lie detector tests fairly often before, at one or another of the many orphanages of her past, and she had actually been able to prove her abilty to neatly circumvent very many of them. It wasn't really that she was dishonest, just a bit over-clever and bored, was usually the psychologists' decision. She told all this to Dumbledore, who laughed and said he felt the same way about Muggle lie detector testing.

"But tell me, Miss Julie, do you really think that you're just bored and over-clever? Or do you suspect that you have thoughts that we might possibly term 'evil' on occasion?" Julie hung her head and nodded. "Well, that's alright, because we all do. It just matters that very few of those particular thoughts happen to be in control of you that makes a good or bad decision in a wizard." Professor Granger returned from a door in the back of the office, and Julie's eyes lit up inquisitively. "Now, do you have any questions before I tell you more about the testing?"

"Well, just one, sir. Why did he make the potions if she's the Potions teacher?" Julie indicated Granger and Snape, and watched as Dumbledore burst into laughter. "Did I say something funny?"

"No, just incredibly gifted, that's all. I can tell that you're a marvelous observer. No, the reason why I had Snape and not Gingersnap make the potions is because I needed her to owl a few Aurors-they're like wizard detectives."

"_Gingersnap_?" Julie inquired, looking a little confusedly at the brownhaired, browneyed and fiercely reddening professor. "Why would anybody call her-?"

"Oh, that's a little private nickname, on account of her last name is Granger-Snape," Professor Severus explained it dryly. Julie looked wildly from one and to the other, with an expression not so much of disbelief as of amusement.

"You two are…_she's_ the student?" Snape grinned slightly and Dumbledore completely cracked up. Julie found it highly amusing, also, and tried her best to restrain a howl of laughter.

"Couldn't just leave out that little detail, now, could you, Sev?" Hermione inquired, definitely red but also smiling. Julie was so earnestly shocked and amused by this discovery that she forgot to question the vast difference in their ages-not that it mattered a small fig to her.

"So students here are allowed to date teachers?" she asked jokingly. Hermione and Severus both shook their heads, giving forth a loud and resounding 

"No!'

"We broke the rules rather severely, I'm afraid," Professor Snape explained it. "Not that there's anybody that you'd really want to date among the staff…"

"Oh, I d'know, that Professor Flitwick didn't really seem that bad." Severus nearly choked on his tonsils before he realized that Julie was joking. The expression on his face as well as Julie's sick little jest sent the others into paroxsyzmic laughter. Dumbledore mentally stashed away a comment.

"'Deals well with stress by use of humor'-a very useful trait, Miss Julie. I wouldn't swear that it was quite appropriate, but then, most humor rarely is. Did you have any other questions before you deide whether or not you'll take the potions?"

"Well, sort of…what do these few potions taste like?"

"Oh, _quite_ abysmal. You'll be spitting for a week," Professor Snape joked in an absolutely deadpan voice. "But they do get excellent results, possibly shed some light on where you _did_ really come from."

"Really?" Julie didn't care how it tasted, she just wanted some answers. "Line 'em up then."

"Keep in mind, Miss Julie," Professor McGonagall pointed out pointedly. "Every secret you've ever had or shared with anybody, whether you remember it or not, will be up for open scrutiny. We can promise to keep what we hear a secret, but some things my be in your mind that you don't want anyone to hear."

"Will I be conscious of what-all I'm saying?" Julie asked.

"Not at all- the memory potion pretty much makes you mumble in your sleep, only audibly." Snape was surprisingly not being so abrasive.

"What-all do you suppose I remember?"

"Everything you've ever perceived in your life from the day you were born to when you fell asleep on us."

"We'll get you a bed in the hospital wing, you should wake up around noonish tomorrow." Julie looked nervously at Professors Granger, Snape, and McGonagall, then back at the Minister of Magic.

"Just you four listening?" she inquired tensely.

"Even fewer if you like, dear." Hermione patted the girl on the shoulder, with a maternal air that made Severus want to sigh. There was a glance between them missed by all but Dumbledore, who had already suspected a good home for Julie.

"Oh. Well, line 'em up, then."

"You'll take the potions?"

"Sure. What's the worst it could possibly do to me?" 


	4. A Pair of Tests

A/N: And now, revelation! I apologize in advance for Julie's bloody incomprehensible subconscious voice, but I couldn't give her perfect grammar there, now, could I? Here you go:

Chapter Four: A Pair of Tests

"Y'know, I always feel kind of silly lying down when everybody else is standing," Julie observed to the kind Professor Granger, who was staying by her side as her husband mixed and boiled two strange potions. The room began to smell of cocoa and oatmeal, the two scents Julie best associated with her fractured childhood. "Is it supposed to smell like that?" she asked her curiously.

"The potion smells like two of the earliest things you remember," the dark-haired Professor Snape explained, bringing an odd-shaped glass over. "To me it just smells like two potions."

"And to me it smells like toothpaste," Professor Granger admitted. "Better drink this off before it gets cold."

"No problem." Julie took the glass and emptied it off like a townsman in a pints contest, very fast and without stopping. "Didn't taste so awf'ly bad, sir," she asserted accusingly, trying desperately to swallow the last drops of the wretched, vile liquid. Professor Granger understood and gave her some water. That, too, she tossed back like a drunkard.

"Alright, now you're going to have to fall asleep naturally," Snape explained, "so I guess we'd better bore you now completely." He picked up a fat and battered sort of textbook. "'Beginner's Divination,' by Sibyll Trelawney," he read somberly, until Hermione stopped him with a withering look. "Did you have a question?"

"I'm sorry, Julie, that was a bit of a running Hogwarts joke. Professor Trelawney used to teach Divination here and it's a class I dropped out of because I thought that it was pointless."

"What is Divination, anyway?" Both teachers answered:

"Pointless."

"Actually, it's figuring out things about the future, which any fool could do by logic, so I found it quite useless. I'm not pressuring you to like Defense Against the Dark Arts, though that is what I teach here- -finally."

"And I've got a feeling you'll like Potions, though it's quite a different teacher than I had." Hermione was so openly affectionate with Severus that Julie felt almost as if she were left out but still included in some partly-hidden secret. She had already taken the Veritaserum, so she decided to attempt to tell a lie.

"When I was a real little kid we had subjects like…math, and Greek mythology. That last one wasn't a class, though, I just liked to read about it. I was going to say something like Flying and Invisibility, 'cause I didn't think either of you'd know about what Muggles take and I wanted to test the Veritaserum." 

"That was a very good idea, Julie, except for the somehow perfectly obvious fact that my wife here is Muggle-born."

"I couldn't tell."

"Well, you might have somewhat glaringly when she came in as a first-year, even if she did try to swallow the textbook quite whole."

"Really?" Julie inquired. "How'd you do it?"

"It's a metaphor, dear, he means I was a know-it-all."

"Oh, that way. So am I at school if I'm not busy painting sky."

"Sky?" Snape inquired, but Hermione's face was just as blank. 

"It's an expression, means to daydream."

"Oh. Do you like reading?"

"The way you probably like air."

"Something's wrong here. She shouldn't be able to be that sarcastic under Veritaserum at this age." Snape suppressed an unusually merry smirk at Hermione's startled fear.

"I didn't mean to be sarcastic, it's just what I-" Julie yawned, "-usually say under the circumstances when kids ask me if I read."

"As I recall it, you could be just as sarcastic yourself, dear, when you were fifteen."

"Now there's another one. 'As I recall it' 's another expression out of that same album." Both teachers looked entirely blank. "I usually wound up with classic rock because we only got so much allowance and they cost less."

"What the-?"

"I think she means Muggle music, dear."

"Oh."

"You all just live in kind of a world within a world, now, don't you?"

"I suppose that you could say that."

"So do you think that all the 'British eccentrics' are merely wizards who've been noticed by the Muggles?" Julie inquired, a philosophical thought so deep that it was moderately startling to the two of her teachers. "I'm sort of thinking that might be it." 

Dumbledore knocked on the hospital wing door, and called for Severus to 'come and have a word for a moment, please.' Reluctantly the darkhaired teacher left the girl with one professor, who in spite of only knowing the child for a matter of some hours was beginning to feel more and more sympathetic to the girl's 'new-wizard' plight. Julie herself was actually starting to notice it too, but she didn't dare say anything lest Professor Granger not like the sentiment and stop it.

"Have you honestly never had a bedtime story in your life?" Hermione asked her. 

"Maybe one or two, but they were from the bigger kids. I guess that sorta counts, though, doesn't it?"

"How about I tell you one right now so that you can get to sleep a little faster?" the professor offered nervously.

"I think I'd like that, even if I am nearly sixteen."

"When were you born, then?"

"January…I think."

"Do you not even know your birthday?"

"Nope, but most of the kids I knew didn't. We just celebrated all the January birthdays on the fifteenth, the February ones the next month, and so on. It was really a pretty good system because they had so many kids."

"How many were there altogether?'

"Something like thirty in each grade level. At one orphanage, though, the really big one, we once had thirty-two kids born in January alone." Hermione was shocked, but Julie smiled. "I guess it was because of all the thunderstorms that they commonly have in late May."

"Did Severus tell you about my getting kidnapped in May of my seventh year here?"

"Yeah, I thought the other parts of the story weren't nearly as good."

"You mean to tell me that you preferred he and my getting back together to the fall of the most evil wizard ever?"

"I wouldn't say that I _necessarily_ preferred it, just that it was the most interesting part. Has he always worn his hair that long, cause I don't blame you for dating a teacher if he has."

"He has for as long as I've known him…though he was thirty-one when I met him."

"How old were you?"

"I was…eleven…a first-year."

"I guess you didn't start dating right off the bat then. About when did you decide that he was dishy?" Julie wavered between nastily sarcastic and politely, curiously inquisitive, a combination the Hermione wound up liking. The professor started on admitting the whole story.

"My sixth-year project was on History of Potions, and somehow things just sort of…started, I guess."

"So you'd been dating secretly for almost two years when you were kidnapped…there's no wonder why he wanted to have you back so badly."

"How could you tell?"

"He remembered how long you were gone right down to the day and the hour. That's striking me as just a tiny wee bit desperate, wouldn't you say so?"

"I never knew he knew it down to the hour."

"More like the minute, I'd say. Can you remember any of while you were gone at all?"

"No, I wouldn't take the potion-memory test because of- -who's interrogating whom here?"

"I was just about to ask that, myself."

"So…do you have anything you'd really wondered about at Hogwarts?"

"Sort of. I was curious as to why Professor Hagrid's so tall-you see, I met him on the boats-but someone told me he's a half-giant, and I was just really wondering where my coat and luggage went."

"Oh, the house-elves took them up to your room, and the ferret and mice are in some cages now."

Julie smiled, all sarcasm gone now.

"Oh, thanks a lot. You can't imagine how fast William and Mary can run, and Anthony's no slack himself. He's the ferret one, y'know."

"I've always liked ferrets myself, but I could never quite get used to rats. Now I just simply abhor them."

"I hate rats, too,"Julie exclaimed quite passionately. "Anthony's well-trained to kill them if ever he sees one, the nasty litle blighters. Are there any kept as pets now here at Hogwarts?"

"Not anymore…they've all been banned."

"Now how did they make that nice little rule?"

Hermione told Julie the story of Wormtail the evil Animagus posing as Scabbers, former pet of her friend Ron, and of Sirius Black's escape on Buckbeak the hippogriff. Contrary to the potion, Julie was now widely awake and asking questions about each aspect of the story.

"So how'd you put up without telling your friends about the Time-Turner all year? I would have used it to make mischief, or at least get in some practice on the ball field."

"What sort of ball do you play?" Hermione inquired, recalling the Gryffindors' need of a Seeker and new Keeper for the House team. 

"Bouncy," Julie replied, pulling out a tiny object, smaller than the Snitch, and holding it aloft for her. "See, these little balls cost at the most maybe two bob and a shilling, thought there's bigger ones that go up to a half-crown." As much as she had lost touch with the old Muggle money of her childhood, Hermione could tell that they were far from being very expensive. "All the orph'nage kids buy 'em, and then trade 'em, and we play a game like catch confused with fives and football. I was only good as a goalie, myself, 'cause I can't run, but I can catch it."

Suddenly her teacher was positively humming with excitement. Julie couldn't think why for the life of her. Professor Granger started to tell her about Quidditch, which was sort of interesting but for her fear of heights, and then about how her friend Harry won the House Cup their third year. It was a very interesting story, but by some power in the middle of it, she was neatly asleep by the ending.

"Is she out yet?"

"I believe so." Hermione felt her hand clasped within a much larger one. "Severus, d'you recall that talk we had last month, about…"

"Yes, dear, I remember."

"Well, when you said that we might think about adoption, why not this one? She's got no family and she seems so much like the two of us, I just kind of thought-" Professor Snape silenced her with a quiet kiss.

"I was thinking the same thing, m'love. But let's see how the test goes." 

The door opened, and Minister Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and a house-elf who was holding a big pad and pencil came in and sat down.

"Professor 'My-knee!" Dobby cried happily. "Is you knowing about Dobby's new job? Dobby is a- a-"

"Stenographer," the four professors finished.

"Yes, a- a whatsit for great Minister Dumbledore. I write and read now, but mostly I like write."

This news pleased Professor Granger no end, as she was one of the few who favored universal literacy among magical creatures such as house-elves. Professor Snape just looked a little amused by Dobby's puzzling Ministry uniform, which looked like Sergeant Pepper's castoff clothes heap. He had been learning some things about the Muggle culture with the help of his wife, however sometimes they both got a little confused about it. Consequently, Snape was perfectly convinced of the musical prowess of artists such as Sergeant Pepper and Chris Gaines, who did not in strictest sense really exist. Dumbledore was fully aware of his annoyance with house-elves, and so told Dobby to write very fast what Julie said without any interruption. As Starcatcher fell into a deeper and deeper sleep, the words began to come.

"Julie, can you hear us?" Professor Granger asked at Dumbledore's instruction.

"Yeah, just- sort of blurry. I can remember a man with one glove on, and…"

"And what?" Professor Snape inquired.

"And I was born one dark gray morn with music comin' in my ears-in my ears."

"That's Simon and Garfunkel."

"Could you try to think harder?"

"Yeah, it's a song, but it is true. The first noise that I remember was this really pretty birdsong, like it was trying to enfold me. And then I heard my mother's voice, said something about hawks or docks…"

"Fawkes?" Professor McGonagall inquired.

"Tha's it, I guess so. And then he took me away…the man with one real white glove, mumbled something like said he was the Servant of of Nevermore. Now I saw no ravens, so I guess he said Voldemort, didn' he?" The professors all went white but Snape, who with Julie was the only one calm. "Then I'm supposin', yes, there was the orphanage. I was just a real little kid, then, weren't I?" Julie's polished London accent had faded into something in between John Lennon and Bob Dylan, giving Dobby something of a hard time with the stenography.

"Can you remember anything else about the day you were born?"

"Just little details, smells and noises, I guess."

"Do you remember little crimes at the orphanage?"

"Thousands. I was really one for amusement, then, weren't I?"

"Then all the misdemeanors were amusement? Were they cruelty?"

"Naw, and not all were amusement…some were like, protection, when I carried a switchblade, although that was partly utilitarian, and some were revenge, like when I shoved a kid who picked on Cory. He was a real little kid with a limp that I used to treat like he were my brother, on account of he looked like me. I also ran away a lot after Cory passed away because I didn't want to stay there with the other kids."

"Was anybody mean to you…did you feel you were mistreated?" Dumbledore had taken over all of the questioning now, as tears were streaming down Hermione's face.

"Some kids were mean to me because I can't run so fast, like when we played games, and some teased me because of my looks or knowing the whole book in lit class, but not really ever mistreated, now, no."

"Did you ever feel as if you had a family?"

"Sort of. There was Cory, and after that I knew that I could start my own if I grew up and went to high school, got married, that whole lot stuff. Except I got shipped around so often, it was really hard to keep up with me schoolwork, even if I knew the whole textbook front and around. My school's my family."

"Do you remember when you first did magic?"

"Yeah, an' it were in a game of chess. I was just thinking out a series of moves, concentrating really hard, and then the things just started movin'. It were really really cool."

"Did you ever use magic to do mischief?"

"Well, I accidentally made a pencil levitate jus' an inch or so above me teacher's head cause she were an ornery old baggage."

"Would you like to remain here at Hogwarts?"

"More'n anything."

"Any House in particular?"

"He said that I should be in Gryffindor."

"But what do you think?"

"I'm still quite neutral."

"Very well, then. You can rest and go to sleep."

"Just one more question, Minister!" Snape asked hurriedly. His old Professor gave the nod, and Snape inquired: "Have you ever hoped that you might be adopted?"

"When I were little. But not…anymore." Julie yawned and went quite quickly back to sleep. The Minister of Magic motioned all the professors outside.

"It's just as we had hoped. She seems quite far from being a reprise of Lord Voldemort." There would have been a great sigh of relief except that McGonangall was sniffling and Severus was holding Hermione. "And yet she's not quite Potter either, since not Riddle. I believe that this is indeed a type of child entirely new."

"Will she be allowed to stay at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, short of sobbing. Professor McGonagall looked to Dumbledore, who earnestly nodded his head.

"About that last question of yours, Severus, am I assuming that the girl sparks your interest?" Professor McGonagall glanced at Hermione, and Severus was quick to tell her:

"Not in that way! But she's so like her, and so like me, I guess I kind of thought…"

"We both did." Hermione had almost got emotions controlled. "Even though she's fifteen, d'you suppose we could apply for her?"

"You've only known the girl a matter of hours," Dumbledore reminded quietly. Abruptly Severus went from calm to very angry.

"And how long do you get to know your real kids before you make a choice on them?" Snape asked in close to fury. "How long we've known her doesn't matter, she needs parents!"

Dumbledore grinned, quite convinced by that.

"Well, since wizarding law requires the child's consent, I suppose you could fill out some of the paperwork this evening," Dumbledore conjured a file from the folds of his robe. "I'll need a blood check from each of you as well as from Julie, purely formalities, you understand." 

Minutes had two wand-marks on the backs of their hands, as wizards didn't draw blood with a needle. Moving quietly, Albus checked Julie's, the slight sting of which didn't even rouse the girl from her very sound sleep. While the Snapes filled in all the required forms and McGonagall left to find a handkerchief, Dumbledore was stirring the three wands in a glass of clearish liquid. It was turning brilliant crimson. 

"Oh, my."

"What does that mean, Professor- I mean, Minister Dumbledore," Hermione asked in curiousity.

"It's a very simple potion called the Proof-of-Blood. It only turns bright red if-"

"-all the samples are true blood relatives," Severus finished with an expression of wonder. "Dear, do you have any cousins?"

"None."

"Neither I. And even so, it wouldn't be quite- -_that_ red." Severus unspoken thought was evident in both of their faces before-

"Yes, you're family." Dumbledore was sort of smiling in a very unlikeable manner. "I think that this lack of knowledge is due to someone else's refusal to take the test that Julie just did." He looked sternly at a shaking Hermione. "And also to the decided misbehavior of one of my teachers." Severus looked just as guilty. "You two _were_ both aware that the anticeptive charm on the grounds only works if both parties don't want a child, weren't you?" He was within a hair of yelling at them, but the smile was growing and refusing to fade. Finally Hermione protested:

"I thought it meant we didn't want one then!" 

"Are you both aware of how many good Chasers I have gotten out of 'didn't want one then'? And how many House Cups were won by Gryffindor because of that?" 

Suddenly Snape went ashen white.

"You mean to tell me-?"

"I suggest that you tear up those papers, because they aren't legally valid at all. I'll go write up the certificates, Julie Starcatcher's turned a Snape."

***********************************************

"Professor Granger?" Julie asked, her eyes still hazy from the blur of sleep and potions.

"Yes, it's me, dear," she replied, quite nervous suddenly.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Did I pass the test?" Julie sat up excitedly, waiting for an answer, until she noticed just how scared her two professors looked. Her face fell swiftly. "Or am I another Voldemort like you thought, then?" 

"No, Julie, you passed the test fine," Professor Snape told her. "It's just- -we kind of ran a second test without your own permission, and the results are quite incriminating, really." Julie blushed furiously.

"You know about the time I rigged the teacher's car?"

"No, actually-"

"The time I set a circus elephant free and rode it to the hospital?"

"No, really, it's just- -what in heavens' name would you want with an elephant?"

"Cory wasn't allowed out to see them, so I took him one. I rode it right past his window- -guess that wasn't bad?"

"No, I believe I might have done that, too, under similar circumstances." Professor Snape was getting as far off the topic as Julie was. Hermione smiled at the way they distracted each other so easily.

"Actually, Julie, I was wondering if you'd look in that mirror there." Obediently Julie got up and walked to the mirror that Dumbledore'd brought. It was a large, stately one with a big golden frame and writing she couldn't understand at all on the top of it.

"It's a pretty one," she observed, not having looked in it. Professor Snape gave up and moved it so she saw herself- -or rather, not herself.

Julie quite abruptly saw a story acted out before her, real as life, with a terrible rat-man who kidnapped a Hogwarts girl. She knew instantly the bushy hair and stack of books, as well as how a scar had been done quite by accident. The main figure in the search for the girl she knew, although Professor Snape had seemed a little leaner then, or was it perhaps because he barely ate until the girl returned? Julie couldn't tell. There were flashes of lightning, a newborn's cry that sounded oddly like she'd heard it before, and the unearthly pretty sound and tune of phoenix song. Then there was a smashed silvery hand struggling madly to reach out of the mirror and lift her, as she realized it had once near sixteen years ago. Then, in the midst of all the horror, she saw the teacher and the student reunited, as well as the two of them sitting cradled in a leather chair- -one she could have sworn she recognized from the dungeon's rooms last night. The two lovers, clearly meeting there in secret, exchanged the tenderest of kisses, and she was back to her own real reflection. Only now it seemed quite different, with features highlighted by unknown knowledge. She glanced back and forth from the professors to her own face, comparing black hair with black hair, brown eyes with brown eyes, bushy ponytail with just as wild bushy hair, straight and almost hooky nose- -it was impossible to believe, but it looked true to her. She held up one hand towards the mirror, and caught a glimpse of Wormtail pointing a wand at her. The scar on her palm burned again as the Dark Lord was failed by his servant's work, leaving her with the mark and name Starcatcher. She didn't know it, but the professors saw the whole thing, too. 

"Well?" she asked, turning around at last to face them. "Does this mirror show one's past to one?"

"It's called -the Mirror of Erised," Snape explained, his voice oddly choked as he looked at his half-grown daughter. "It shows only one's heart's greatest desire." Julie looked at them quite hard, then glanced back toward the mirror.

"Funny," she exclaimed, in as cynical and hopeful a voice as either of her parents had ever used, "It looks quite ordinary, mirror-wise, to me, now."


	5. The Heir of Both

A/N: And now we will jump to the way Dumbledore must punish his old Potions master, even though the evidence can pretty much speak for itself, I guess. (Apologies, terrible joke. Couldn't resist.) We will also show the way that Julie's learning here at Hogwarts, she has two parents' expectations to live up to. Here you go.

Chapter Five: The Heir of Both

"Well, 'Mione, I'm here!" The new Professor of Flying at Hogwarts, newly elected in October after Madam Hooch's retirement, zoomed in quick and landed in the window. "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were with a class-"

"It's alright, Har'. Now get in and for cripes' sake shut the window." He obeyed quite well. Hermione helped her friend down off the ledge onto the marble floor, pointing out to him that this was not a class, quite. "It's only friends of mine and Sev's, you know?" Indeed, it seemed as if a motley party had assembled on the desks and chairs, drinking an assortment of beverages from an assortment of cups, neatly divided into Slytherins and Gryffindors with two poor Muggles in the corner, scared. 

"Did you have Malfoy bring the absinthe here?" Harry asked jokingly, indicating the brilliant green bottles on a desk or two.

"No, they're from Beauxbatons, I think it's one of Fleur's sick jokes."

"You still haven't told me why I'm up here in the Potions room."

"It's a surprise, Harry, sit down." 

"Now, Hermione!" a deep voice from a little above her head demanded. "You haven't taken a leaf from McGonagall already?" Without even turning around, Hermione addressed her redhaired Auror friend.

"Not if you haven't taken up with Mad-Eye's work, Ron." There was a second, then she spun around to hug and smile, and to be picked up quite ingenuously by the six-nine Ron. "I'm not a Quaffle, put me down!"

"Nope, 'Mione, you're definitely a Bludger type," Harry joked, clapping Ron on the back as he returned their friend to ground with at least normal speed. 

"So what's the party? I haven't seen this since your- -well, this is probably what it would've looked like had you not eloped on us."

"Would you really have enjoyed a night with Slytherins, Ron?"

"You're right, there. So tell me, is this an announcement type?" Hermione went a little pink, then fumbled for a term, which came out:

"Sort of."

"Right! I knew it, Harry! Eight Galleons says it's a boy!"

"Ron, don't bet," Hermione warned him, now bright red with blushing. "The odds are somewhat fixed against you."

"So you _cheated_, then?"

"Ron!"

"Well, me and Ginny did," Harry remarked innocently, forcing Ron to go even redder than Hermione was and cast a look at him. "It's just a charm, Ron, doesn't mean you find out twins or not, just blue or pink, y'know?"

"There are no twins in the forecast here!" Hermione almost yelled at him, beginning to feel a little silly that she hadn't warned them earlier about the nature of the announcement. "It's about when I was kidnapped, see?"

The guys went stiff, faces set against events they'd rather not recall. Abruptly Harry's face went chalk white, realizing another possibility involved there.

"Oh, I get it, 'Mione," he said quietly. "Are you adopting from a magic one, or-"

"Harry, you're off yet again. We aren't adopting anyone."

"Then how come Prof- -Severus owled me to- -nevermind, I just assumed it would be-"

"Professor 'Mione!" Another professor walked into the classroom, a large glass jar well duct-taped to his hand somehow. "I've got you some- -brought you- -uh," Professor Longbottom of Herbology pointed to the jar he'd brought. "It's Mandrake juice, I didn't want to spill it."

"Thank you, Neville, I didn't know that they had gotten to their full size yet!" 

"Well, see, they hadn't, but some Muggle stuff improved their growth quite quickly," he explained, with the air of one who had a secret for the first time. "It's called nitrogen plant food, did quite well, like a little magic dust for plants."

"How'd you ever manage finding that in Muggle shops, Nev?" Ron asked, knowing full well Neville was a wizard-born. 

"And who's instructed you in all the ways of duct tape?" Harry asked, pointing to the fact that he hadn't cut the tape from the roll yet and was stuck to it. "Some Muggle-born kid?"

"Well, uh, no, well, sort of, kinda-" Hermione stepped in to keep Neville from blowing open the whole secret by waving her parents over from the corner where they'd been scared. Now completely horrified by some of the spectacles around them, (a Slytherin was passing a pet snake around,) they hurried nervously to where their daughter called them. 

"Mum, Dad! You remember Harry, Ron, and Neville?"

"Oh, yes...friends of yours. Hello," Mr. Granger replied very nervously. Things might have been restored to relative normalcy had not the doors exploded inward with a crashing sound. The puff of smoke cleared, leaving just a knot of kids, all fifth-years, with Professor Snape behind them.

"Damn it all, Starcatcher! You were told to burst it _silently_, not frighten everybody in the room within!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but you said it was empty now." Julie's voice, instead of scared and faintly plaintive, had a note of cold defiance behind a very obstinate bravery. Snape only took this badly, shouting louder:

"Well, I was _lying_, girl! Haven't you learned anything in three weeks here at Hogwarts?"

"Not to be belligerent, sir, but I believe that I had lying down by two at least!" 

"'Not to be belligerent, sir'?" Snape mocked in a ridiculously high voice, causing Neville to cringe, Harry to look stunned, and Hermione to grow more ticked than usual. "You _are_ being belligerent, Starcatcher, and I ought to take off fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"I DARE YOU!" the dark-haired student yelled right back, not only furious to death of being screamed at so, but well aware of just whose classroom she had burst into. Snape had his wand in the air ready to point at her, before a glance to the end of the room convinced him otherwise. When he looked back at Starcatcher, she was grinning, not only perfectly and completely calm, but almost obnoxiously so, enought to make both of her parents wonder which side that was from. Instead of even waiting for Professor Snape to put his arm down, she turned and walked straight to Professor Neville, saying: "Told you I could do it. Got the cabbage yet?"

"Hold it, Starcatcher!" Hermione stopped her, with a voice every bit as steely as Professor McGonagall's. "You burst that door incorrectly on a bet?" Starcatcher nodded guiltily. "What have I told you about gambling with professors?"

"Not to do it anymore, ma'am."

"And did you listen?"

"Yes I did, ma'am."

"The door's wide open!"

"Well, I didn't say that I _obeyed_ you." The grin was back on Julie's face, but not obnoxious now. "And I already had this bet made when you lectured me on gambling, so it wouldn't have been moral not to keep it- -right?"

"Class dismissed," her father told the students, who scampered off in fear of death and homework. Repairing and then closing the doors of the classroom, he was quick to join his wife and greet her family. "Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, how are you this afternoon?" he inquired politely if quite nervously. A glance over their shoulders to Julie proved just how scared he was of angering them. Julie realized that they were her grandparents, and in all likelihood, probably still not used to her father's greater age than her mother's. A second's thought proved that they would probably not like the idea of her very much, either, or at least not the time of her birth and what her mother called 'technical illegitimacy.' She also couldn't help but grasp they carried dentist's tools, looked very nervous in the company of wizards, and were glancing at the red-haired man and his friend with the broomstick as if they might be the only sane ones present. Deciding to take the safest route, she addressed Professor Longbottom about the duct tape clinging to his left hand.

"Here, Professor, I think you'd better get that tape off. Always makes me itch if I leave it on my skin long. No, pull it slowly, or you'll take all off your hairs off- -alright, there."

"Thank you, Miss Starcatcher. Do I roll it up now or just tear off what I've used yet?"

"Well, sir, actually, you can tear it off the roll before you go somewhere, the roll doesn't need to stay attached like that."

"Oh, I get it, then." Professor Longbottom leaned in a little closer. "I think your father looked more stunned than I've ever seen him."

"Well, professor, I will say I like your red cabbage. That, and Mum was telling me about the times he yelled at you. Sort of a get-back kind of thing I did, y'know, sir?"

"I only hope he doesn't yell at you that loudly when you're at home."

"Naw, it's only Starcatcher he yells at. His Julie Snape's immune to everything at home, see? It's kind of a plot to make sure that neither parent helps me."

"But don't you hate it? The yelling, I mean."

"Not really, I think Dad means well to do it. If he didn't yell at me after I messed up the curse last week, I wouldn't have practiced it until I learned to do it well. And if I hadn't learned to do it well, I would have failed the test, and then quite possibly done it backwards when I needed it. One shouldn't shoot one's foot twice with a Swelling Curse, wouldn't you say?"

Professor Longbottom laughed and agreed with her, just as Harry wandered over to meet his new student, who was evidently not leaving though dismissed.

"Who's your young friend, Neville?" The girl didn't blink at his scar, even, and Harry began to see this was no common student here.

"You'd better tell him, Nev," Severus observed a little wryly. "He won't believe you, but I think you'd better tell him."

"Should I really?" Neville asked Hermione. She nodded. "Alright, Harry, this is Julie, she's a student."

"Not _that_, Longbottom!" Snape exclaimed in mild exasperation. Neville sighed at what he had forgotten.

"Oh, yeah, _that_ part. She's also Sev and Hermione's daughter."

***************************

As matters turned out, Julie's grandparents were more happy to meet her than they seemed ready to quibble about how she got there. They were also more interested in asking about how old and tall and bright she was than how her parents came to have her fifteen years ago, and easily more cheerful to hear that she liked Shakespeare than to quibble about crime or Palaniuk's novels, neither minor former interest Julie mentioned. Her grandmother wound up enthralled by Professor Neville's account of how she was doing in Herbology, and as an ardent gardener was thrilled by this prospect. Her grandfather showed a lot of interest in her forgery and lockpicking tools, which she passed off as being mainly for calligraphy and electronics repair- -both uses most were actually designed for. It wasn't lying, as she'd only used them thus since coming to Hogwarts, but merely an omission of some details he'd find frightening. As a dentist, her grandfather was eying both Julie's old tools and her front teeth, which Julie found to be as outsize as her mother had thought them years ago. Grandfather Granger pointed out that her mother's had grown right, never having been told of the interference whence, and Julie made a mental note to have hers shrunk soon. As the party was ending, Neville took a wizarding picture of the Snapes and the Grangers, which moved quite subtly showing nods and blinks and smiles. Julie was pleased to note she had her grandmother's eyes as well, and her half-smile looked just like her grandfather's. It was nice at last to meet her extended family, including the more honorary members. Hermione had already told her a few old school stories about Harry and Ron and what they did, as well as what she used to think of Draco Malfoy. Since Lucius Malfoy's death and his wife's helpful Ministry spy work, however, she could only conclude that the grown Auror Draco was at least not as bad as she'd thought him then, though not nearly so good as Severus thought him. With his father's being killed back in their sixth year, Malfoy had come to follow Snape as a mentor and confidante, enough so that the Professor seemed to like him as a friend of sorts. Considering she'd heard his bad points from her mother and his good side from her dad, Julie's final opinion on Malfoy was that he 'looked like James Marsters and seemed like an okay sort.' This remark was to confuse all but kind Harry, who had been raised among Muggles and consequently knew a little of their acting. 

"He's a Muggle actor, Severus, thought very attractive by people ten years ago." Harry then turned and whispered aside to Hermione; "Played a vampire for nine years in America." It was odd how well her parents' friends knew to say one thing to the one Snape and another to the other, thus insuring that noone would be offended. 'Uncle Harry,' as Julie seemed the wont to call him, managed to draw her quietly away from her mother's watch to talk about flying and Quidditch, which her father had arranged for her to learn soon. And 'Uncle Ron' was just as bad there, discussing games and types of player until she knew enough to pretty well decide what position she wanted to play on a Quidditch team.

"Either a Seeker if I can fly, or a Keeper if I can't fly," she decided. "I at least know I can catch whatever you throw at me."

"Even something this big?" Harry pulled out a Snitch with the wings unwound.

"Even smaller." Julie showed them a bouncy ball the size of a marble. Ron wanted to see if it bounced or not, then was amazed at what he thought was fabulous Muggle technology. Snape shrugged it off as merely latex molded rubber, until Julie shot it off the opposite wall to catch it, at which point the theatrics began. Hermione managed to intervene just as an improptu game of Very-Tiny-Catch-Ball was breaking out among her husband, daughter and a lot of school friends, most of whom were either Gryffindors, Slytherins, Beauxbatons graduates, or the couple who came from Bulgaria. Her excuse for stopping it was what Professor McGonagall would think, but very unfortunately, Professor McGonagall had entered right behind her and agreed with them:

"Only let's go out and use some brooms and Snitches, make a proper game of Quidditch after we pick sides. Come on!" Abruptly the entire crowd of wizards began to race out toward the Quidditch field, leaving Julie, her mom, and her grandparents to follow and see what transpired. Hermione and the Grangers watched the scrimmage game with quite a lot of interest, not noting the absence of Severus, who would never skip a Quidditch match, especially one where he could Seek against Harry; Draco Malfoy, who had gone aside with his old Potions professor, and Julie, who was in for a surprise from them.

"I've brought the one you wanted, Severus. Firebolt XP-550, right?"

"Perfect, Draco. Julie, come here a moment."

"Yes, dad?" She came and was handed a broomstick then.

"Do hold this broom for me, dear. Now, Draco, I think she's a Seeker type, but if she flies like her mother, then she's Keeper sort. How are they sizing the gloves now in Paris, would she be a ten or eleven, there?" Paying Julie absolutely no attention, the professor held one of her hands up for Malfoy to see.

"I'd actually say she's a twelve, sir, the long fingers and span of the thumb muscle. Seeing how she's got a bit of a snap wrist, I'd say lace sides instead of those Velcro ones, and perhaps a guard inside of the forearm, see?" Malfoy had effectively traced an imaginary Quidditch glove on Julie's hand, not that she had the faintest what the two men were on about. She decided not to ask, just pay attention more. "I'm not sure what you'd want to do for Seeker gloves, as it's really a 'to each his own' market, but if she turns out a Keeper I'd say suede-palm twelves. Which is her flying hand, cause lefties need them special-made?"

"Actually, Drac', _that's_ the first broomstick she's touched quite yet. I've arranged for Harry and I to teach her starting tomorrow, but- -Julie, do you want to play Quidditch?"

"I- -I suppose so, yeah."

"Good, 'cause it occured to me that I'd never asked you yet. You aren't by any chance afraid of heights, though, dear?"

"I don't know, I've never really been high enough."

"Well, then, I suppose I'd better teach you to fly then, hadn't I?" Severus grinned, something Draco hadn't seen more than seven times in his life, easily, before proceeding to turn the broom horizontally. "Okay, the bare, sort of pointy part's the front end, and the brush part is the tail. The goal is to balance between them to ride it. Have you ever ridden a horse before?"

"No, just an elephant and a bicycle, Dad- -no, I did try a moped once...and fell off."

"Alright, well, the way you had to balance on the elephant-"

"I didn't, really, just climbed in the saddle and tied myself onto it."

"Okay, the way you have to balance on a- -bicycle, is it?- -try to do that on the broom here, so you don't go falling off into oblivion." Obediently Julie attempted to mount the broom. "Always climb on towards your left, dear," he corrected, as Julie went at it from the wrong side. "It makes sure you can use your right foot for kickoff, though you want to use both to get up faster. Now, which hand do you write with? I wasn't quite paying attention in class." Julie looked guilty and hedged for a moment. "Don't try that game with me, girl, I know full well you know how to write at least!"

"But am I right- or left-handed, Dad?"

"You don't mean to tell me that both can write!"

"Well, sort of, yeah, they can."

"Malfoy, I've found an ambidextrous catcher!" Snape spent a few moments in the outskirts of rapture until Malfoy sighed and reminded:

"For Gryffindor." The professor's face fell like a brick from air, then rose back up to the usual cynic's smile.

"True, but I do get to see McGonagall's face when a Snape gets to Seek for the Gryffindors- -or Keep, Julie, whichever it turns out you fancy, girl."

"I think I'd really like to be a Seeker, Dad."

"Well, it'll take a lot of flying practice. A Seeker goes all over the field very quickly, it's a good thing we found the right broom for you."

"Just exactly how fast can this broom go, Dad?"

"About seventy-nine knots per hour top speed," Malfoy explained a bit dryly to her, watching as Severus went paler than Julie did. "But don't worry, it's got a control 'til you've learned better."

"Draco, I've known you since the age of eleven, it _better_ have a speed control to start with!"

"Is this right to sit on it, Dad?"

"Yes, dear, now just kick off, you'll go up fairly quickly, and you steer by just leaning to left or to right, and to stop you just pull up the front of the broom. Please try not to fall to your death, dear, or your mother will give me a rooster's head." 

"Alright, Daddy."


	6. The Gryffindors' Seeker

A/N: Needless to say, as more than two people reviewed this, Julie did not fall to her death, although it would have been a quick way to end this Story That Nobody Seems to Like. In fact, I am about to put in the most fascinating plot twist yet. So here you go.

Chapter Six: The Gryffindors' Seeker

"What do you _mean_ she's just right for a Seeker? _My_ daughter will _not_ play for Gryffindor!"

"As I recall it, one of my teachers did break a cardinal Hogwarts rule. Rather than just firing you, Sev, why don't I merely put Julie on the Gryffindors' team? I think that's punishment enough."

"_If_ she makes the team, Minister Albus."

"Minerva, she's my kid! How could she possibly not make it?"

"Well, if she has your tendency to make offensive fouls, I'm not sure I even want her on the Gryffindors' team."

"For crying out loud, she's never picked up a broomstick!" Hermione could really care less where all this argument was going. They were going to watch the Quidditch tryouts, and as she'd said, Julie'd probably never flown in her life, much less practiced up for Seeker or Chaser yet. But she was sadly and deeply mistaken when she got to the huge Quidditch stadium and sat down with the teachers. Ginny Weasley, a little taller but very much redhaired, handed her and Dumbledore each one of her goddaughters.

"Godparent's job, 'My-knee, leave the parents free to clap."

Out into the center of the field walked Hogwarts' professor of flying. Snape was seeming just a little less than pleased to see Harry Potter, but as Hermione had said, 'you can't teach everything, Sev.' The black-haired young gentleman whistled, and the three entrants for Seeker all took off. Most of them were good, catching the little gold balls within twelve minutes of their launching, but one kid was absolutely excellent. She had seven Snitches in her hands before the first minute bell rang, and brought them down just for releasing again. She had evidently trained with a master.

"Severus," Hermione inquired a little threateningly. He had the world's most sheepish look on his face as he gestured toward the flight professor.

"Aw, come on, just because I didn't like your friend in school doesn't mean I wouldn't ask him if he'd tutor our kid. After all, she's got five years' training to catch up."

"And you two kept this a secret?"

"It's the Slytherin side, dear, knew you'd have to cope with it," McGonagall explained as Hermione fumed at them. She was too busy goggling over her new Seeker to really care to take Hermione's side as she always did. In fact, 'for once,' she thought, 'old Severus may be right.'

At the end of the tryouts, Harry applied the Sonorus Charm to his throat and began to announce the winners. Thirty-four though he was, a crowd of younger girls still ogled.

"And our new Chaser for the Ravenclaws is…Sasha McMillan!" Another child of a school friend got up and had blue robes put on by fellow teammates. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw also each got a new Seeker, as the teams had held a boil-down tryout in secret to prevent anyone's being humiliated. This, the teachers did not, or _were_ not supposed to know. 

"The new Slytherin Keeper will be…Alexei Malgryevic!" A slouchy looking boy of seventeen took his place in the green robes, having just transferred over from Durmstrang due to his ambassador father's removal to England. Snape applauded heartily, though Hermione was quiet as she pointed out the looks Alexei and Julie were sending each other from the field to the auditioners' bench. Abruptly Snape stopped and sent the Bulgarian a glare of ice and daggers. Hermione and McGonagall both cheered like furies as Timothy and Thomas Weasley, cousins and absolute lookalikes, were given the positions of Beaters for Gryffindor, then held their breath as Harry drew out the last scorecard. 

"And the new Seeker for Gryffindor is…Julie Starcatcher Snape! …As if anybody was surprised!" That last was meant to be a comment said under his breath, but the Sonorus Charm prevented anyone from missing just how proud Harry was of his honorary niece. 

Severus was actually on his feet applauding for a Gryffindor before his daughter raised just a slight eyebrow and he remembered his duty to Slytherin. Still, it didn't stop him from permitting just a slight leniency afterwards, when all the Gryffindors came into Potions half-sparked from last night's mint coffee at the party. He usually managed to deduct an average of thirteen points from Julie alone a week in classes, as his philosophy was based on tough love and handicapping best potential to work harder. Having grown up in orphanage schools with just the same philosophy, Julie got along with it just fine. 

Poor Alexei Malgryevic, on the other hand, was pounded so properly into the ground for forgetting his homework that the Slytherins thought their teacher was possessed. Another four points off for glancing in what _may_ have been Julie's direction convinced them he'd gone utterly mad and they decided to go ask Professor Granger. She got students at least every other week protesting that her husband was evil or biased or crazy, and she usually admitted to the second two.

("Yes, of course, he's _very_ biased. How bright of you to notice.")

Julie on the other hand, had just gotten used to her dad's odd teaching tactics and deliberately made mistakes to take the rap off Alex. It took a spill and several small fires before she finally just gave up and worked with Alex on their Polyjuice Potions, a Defense Against the Dark Arts standard stand-by. That drove Snape perfectly crazy.

"Dear, I think you'd really have a talk with her about that stupid Keeper. Every time I pick on him, she just goes and takes his side."

"Well, of course she does, you idiot. The more you block Alex away, the nicer she'll view him as. And you remember me with Neville, Julie always goes to help the picked-on." Hermione kissed her Severus, but he still seemed very worried.

"This Bulgarian's not a thing like your friend Neville, dear."

"True, but he's a lot like Viktor Krum was. These foreign athletes tend to pass, and besides, it's Gryffindor against Slytherin tonight. She'll foul him brainless and the whole thing'll be over."

"The Seeker can't foul on the Keeper!"

"I'm sure Julie'll figure out how. Now tell me this, can the Seeker score if the Quaffle gets thrown at them? I've never been sure."

"Well, it's rarely done, but it is quite legal."

"Oh, good. Then all she does is score too closely and she'll ram him off the goal."

"You aren't helping."

"I'm trying to remind you that he's still on your team. I don't want you defecting to like Gryffindor just because our little girl is their Seeker."

"It does seem like she's been our little girl much longer than just three months, two weeks, and six hours."

"You're keeping track of time again, aren't you?"

"The same way I keep track of the five hours, ten minutes and-" he checked his watch-"eight seconds since I last kissed you."

"Nine, dear."

"Oh, well, then!"

*******************************

The air was crisp, and smelled strongly of autumn. Chloe Davies had brought Julie a lion sticker that roared nicely on her broomstick, and some word about the stories that the younger kids were telling. One had even been so clever as to remark:

"Throw a box of Every Flavor Beans in the air and Starcatcher'll nail just the cherries." 

It sounded brilliant if really over-flattering to Julie, and she made up her mind to try it after her next trip to Honeydukes'. But Chloe told her next that the remark had been made in the hearing of a second-year Slytherin, and the little Gryffindor had gotten a bad hex for his trouble. She got the names of the two kids involved, that is, Lester Bulstrode and Kenny Longbottom, and made up her mind to get even after the game. It was the sort of thing the orphans did, and old habits really died hard, especially since Kenny was the son of her nicest professor.

"Thanks for telling, me, Chlo'. I'll take good care of it."

"But what are you going to do? I don't think you should hurt Lester Bulstrode. They say that his mother's part Troll."

"Oh, I won't hurt him, just listen." Julie outlined her plan in brief to the young half-French student, whose eyes glittered with delight. "So could you find me the materials needed?"

"Absolutely. I've got some in my pocket." 

"Great! I'll do it right after the match." Julie looked at her new wizards' watch, which had the alternate halves of the watchband in bright red and green. "Cripes, I've gotta go. Could you help me tie this, Chloe?"

"No problem, Jule." Having once been an ignored little child herself, Julie knew full well what the odd friendship meant to the little first-year, and wouldn't have denied it for the world. It was also nice to keep a well-placed spy in every facet of her new Hogwarts life, 'just in case,' as she thought with a tiny hint of mischief. 

*********************************

Julie lined up beside the other Gryffindors, next to Kevin Wood the Keeper, (little Carrie's older brother and her parents' friend Oliver's son,) Tom and Tim the Weasley Beaters, as well as the three Gryffindor Chasers, a seventh-year boy called Donaghan McPhersen, a sixth-year called Aldous Howard, and another seventh they called Mack, short for MacAndrew J. Shannon. It occurred to her just then that not only was she the youngest, but the only girl on the entire team. True, the Weasleys were fifth-years, too, but both of their sixteenth birthdays had passed in September. It felt a little odd to be so young and a girl compared to all these tall, strong guys, and she wondered why she'd never noticed it at practice.

"Hey, Tim," Tom called, "think we're gonna win?"

"No, _I'm_ Tom and you're Tim. For God's sake, get it straight, coz." It was a running joke that never failed to crack Julie up, but today it simply stiffened her ice smile. 

"Say, Julie, what's up with y'?" Captain Donaghan inquired. "Y' look as if y're bout to spit a slug."

"It's just my first game and I'm nervous, y'know?"

"It's our first game, too, Jule," Tim-or-Tom Weasley told her. "Don't worry about first-game jitters."

"But at least you guys played Quidditch at home before. This is my first game, ever."

"Now, then, you didna tell me that, Julie," Donaghan protested. "I'd never a'known just a-seein' y' fly as if y'were born wi' a broomstick."

"Naw, Professor Granger's too kindly, she had to have been given it later." Sometimes Mack had just a really filthy mouth, and the Weasley boys slapped him upside both sides of his head. "Sorry, Jule."

"That is the most genuinely horrid thing I ever imagined," Julie said, holding her head to the end of her broomstick. "Kindly wake me when the Quidditch game is over."

"Naw!" Donaghan exclaimed, tapping her shoulder like a big brother before turning to Mack with a vengeance. "Look what y'done now, yeh great ugly mick. Yeh've given our Seeker the gut wambles." It was joking and funny, but Mack still tried to defend himself.

"I was only tryin' to make her laugh." 

"Aw, amazing! _Yeh_ can actur'lly tell she's a girl. Took yeh bloody stinkin' long enough."

"Donaghan, you don't have to defend me against the smutmonger. I've been a Muggle, I can talk filth worse than all of you."

"Really?" Mack was curious. "Do share some!" Obediently Julie whispered into Mack's uncovered ear, causing the poor Irish boy to go redder then the Gryffindor colors.

"Aw, neat, Julie! Yeh've made him match his robes!" Julie realized a little wistfully that Donaghan's Scottish accent made her name sound like 'jule-ay,' which was all in all not a bad way to say it. 

"I think she got her firs' broomstick from her dad." Aldous observed a little dryly. "As I remember it, her mum didn't even think she could fly until the tryouts. And now look at 'er. Julie Starcatcher Snape, Seeker for the Gryffindors." 

"Ow'd they pick that name, Julie?"

"What d'you mean?"

"'Starcatcher,'" Kevin explained it. "There isn't a Seeker on this planet who wouldn't sell blood, bones, and broomstick for a nickname like that, and here it's your real one! I'm guessin' you got _that_ from your father as well."

"Well, guys, actually…" 

Suddenly they heard a horn, indicating that they were to take their places inside the Gryffindor fly tower. Nervously Julie ascended the stair. The Weasleys each tapped her shoulder with a broom for good luck.

"Break a leg, little coz," they whispered in unison, acting on the belief that since she also called their uncle Ron 'Uncle' they were in effect her honorary cousins. She also felt another tap, this time closer to her neck, and it was Donaghan.

"Luck, only-girl-here." 

They heard the annoucer read off all of their names, and then the horns blew. Flying out as fast as they bloody well could, Julie found herself across from her friend Alexei in the startup. He gave her a smile naively.

"Not-hing personal, Julie?" She nodded with a grin and neatly zipped beneath his broom when Harry Potter blew the whistle. She didn't see behind her, but if she had she would have seen him almost fall off. In pursuit of the Snitch, she dodged a Bludger and a Weasley, or maybe it was two Bludgers -no, she really couldn't tell. 

Finally she spied a glimmer of gold flitting just beside the Slytherin goalpost, flying over just in time to see her Donaghan get fouled by Alexei. He dropped the Quaffle, but she was quickly right beneath it. She dodged Matt Flint in time to catch it and throw it hard, unwittingly bagging a goal with her right hand as her left one tightly closed around the fluttering Snitch. She looked at the thing in her hand only momentarily before straining to see down at Donaghan. He was hurt somehow.

"Game!" the announcer called, letting Julie go to fly down to her Captain's aid. In spite of a clearly broken wrist, her Scottish friend seemed fine and grinning broadly.

"We've won the game, an' in, like, twenty bleedin' seconds! This has got ter be a school record, Julie! And this is your bloody firs' game, girl!"

"Are you alright, though? It looks like you've-"

"Broken your wrist again, Donaghan? I swear that's the third time, now, could you please take better care of things? And you!" Professor McGonagall was looking at Julie with an unidentifiable expression. "Nineteen point two-five seconds, do you know what that means?"

"Uh…I'm really sorry about the-"

"Sorry? You've just broke the Hogwarts record, Julie! You mother's going to be so incredibly pleased…and your father will _not_." The Professor seemed to relish that above all news. Julie looked a little frightened by the thought of that.

"Does that mean she gets the Seeker's Medal?" Donaghan was asking, as Madame Pomfrey's helper tried in vain to bandage up the broken arm before they took him to the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall grinned.

"Yes, Mr. McPhersen, she does. This is the only one we've had here in more than a decade."

"Oh, hold still, now, Donaghan. The game can wait another second." Madame Pomfrey had appeared and held out her wand. Donaghan's arm was set and mended right before their eyes, twisting and settling back with a sickening 'pop.' It was a good thing she had fixed it, because Julie went pale and fainted right there on the spot. Her Quidditch captain caught her just before she hit the ground. "Oh, dear, there goes another one!"

Fortunately for the Seeker, there were so many fliers coming in and landing that nobody saw her fainting. All anybody in the audience part really saw was Julie looking startled as Donaghan helped her stand straight. From her father's point of view, his daughter was being reassured by her captain and not that Malgryevic. This was good news. He glanced back over to the scoreboard and sighed just as the Ravenclaw boy at the megaphone announced the new record and the winning of the Seeker's Medal for the first time since 1991. Despite the winner's still being a Gryffindor, he felt his heart leap with pride. After all, she was his daughter.

The Weasley boys were past comprehension with delight, being the second generation of Weasleys to be on the team responsible for a Seeker's Medal match, except that their own uncle Charlie had personally won the last one. Mack and Aldous were shooting fireworks out of their wands from their broomsticks, and Kevin was doing swooping minor backflips. At the referee's final instruction to land, they all flew down in formation, spinning a circle above the head of their quite-dizzy Seeker before finally landing to walk to center with their other four teammates. 

"Julie-girl, y'did it!"

"In four heartbeats!"

"How'd you fly that?"

"Guys, I don't know what I did or why. Just please, get this broomstick away from me." 

The Slytherins, who were even more disgusted with Alexei than ever, slunk slowly off to go change in their dungeon. In the green, they looked like wounded dragons, and the ceremonial shaking hands with the Gryffindors seemed a little more than usually strained for them. Alexei did ask Donaghan about his arm concernedly, however, and several mumbled compliments to Julie, who still looked just a little gobsmacked. Usually the teams also met with their House Professor before leaving the field, but Snape had very little wisdom to imapart to them except for:

"Double practice from now on. If a fifteen-year-old partial-Muggle could shut you down that easily, you don't deserve to play for Slytherin." He tapped Malgryevic on the shoulder, intimidating him quite neatly and giving him a look of purest hatred. "And that's triple work for you, boy." With that, he left them to their grumbling- or so they thought. "Excuse me, Flint, but what was that remark?"

"I- I- I just said that it was _your_ fifteen-year-old girl, so maybe that didn't _quite_ count as- maybe _quite_ so bad, then?" The professor shouted louder than they'd ever heard:

"Are you implying that my daughter is incredibly harder to defeat than the others?" Severus gave them the blackest of dark stares before abruptly switching natures. "Well, I suppose she _is_ quite good, then." And with that, he walked off, leaving them _then_ to their grumbling. 

Only Alex didn't grumble. He was far too busy wondering if this preferentially bad treatment was because of his being friendly with Julie, and whether the father's protectiveness of his little girl had any merit to it. He finally decided to find out if Julie liked him that very same night at the feast. They always threw a feast for broken records, and he figured maybe Julie'd be in a holiday mood.

He was to prove sadly mistaken.

********************************

"Are you alright, Julie?" The knock and words belonged to the captain. "I don't think anybody saw you fainting."

"It isn't that, Donaghan."

"What?" The mahogany door was much too thick. "I couldna' hear you."

"Oh, just come on in!"

Tentatively, the Scottish boy turned the knob and entered the girl Seeker's room. While it wasn't precisely unlawful for students of opposite genders to meet and talk in each other's dormitories, it almost definitely wasn't very common. He half expected to find Julie huddled in a corner and crying, but as it was she was just sitting on her bed cross-legged, with her back almost perfectly straight. It was only her bushy-dark head that was bent down and hiding her face.

"I was jus' wonderin' if you were okay, Julie," he explained, unsure as to whether to pull the door shut behind him or not. He decided to just leave it a little crack open, and moved over toward Julie's spot on the bed. "Are you nervous about tonight's feast, then?"

"Yeah, just a little bit. You can sit down, y'know." Donaghan joined her on the bed, timidly putting an arm around her as if she were a little sister. "How's your arm, by the way?"

"Oh, fixed an' better. I've done that a sight more'n once, y'know, and Madame Pomfrey just zaps 'em fixed no problem."

"It doesn't hurt you?"

"Naw, I'm really just used to it. There's a little sting as the bones fuse together, but then it feels fine. Was that really what made y'pass out there?"

"Yeah, it was the sight of your bones just…twisting. I just couldn't bear the thought of that kind of pain for you."

"Really, only-girl-here?" It was the only affectionate term Donaghan felt really safe using, and Julie was beginning to grasp how he meant it.

"Really, Captain McPhersen."

"Y'know, y're _'lowed_ t'call me Don or Donnie or somethin'?" the young captain inquired. His bright and cheerful blue eyes went so nicely with his deep burgundy hair that Julie stopped herself just short of sighing. 

"I suppose so." Julie suddenly didn't feel the half as nervous…well, not for the same reason, anyway. "Are these feasts usually long or embarrassing?"

"How d'you mean?"

"Am I going to have to talk in front of everybody?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Julie, but y'do. If'n it makes y'feel any better, I have to stand up and talk first, tha'."

"Since you're the captain?"

"Yeah, and I get to give you the medal. There's some tradition says that I'm supposed to kiss you on the cheek, but we can skip that if you really don't fancy."

"No, that's okay." Hoping she had not seemed over-forward, Julie clarified by adding: "Best to adhere to tradition and all that."

"True."

"What happens if the captain also happens to be the Seeker when they get the medal?"

"In Charlie Weasley's day they just chose the most senior player or the next one down that was a girl to do it…if the Seeker was a boy. If the Seeker is the captain and a girl, I guess they'd just have the oldest boy do it. It's a matter of state and propriety."

"Oh, I get it. So if you'd've been the Seeker they'd have just chosen me?"

"Naw, if _I'd've_ been the Seeker they'd be cleanin' off the goals with a scrub brush. But yeah, I suppose that they'd've just have chosen you, then."

"Would that seem alright?" Julie asked him, as the tone of his response had been so very half-ambiguous. Donaghan looked at her, the daughter of Professors Granger and Snape, easily the wrongest girl to ever have a crush on, and made his decision to answer.

"I would love it if y' had the nerve to off an' kiss me." Julie went absolutely crimson.

"By-uh, nerve, do you mean in front of everyone?" She still had her catching gloves on, and Donaghan put both of her small hands in his large ones.

"If yeh'd like, I do mean anywhere." It was that moment Julie realized he was letting her choose whether any new developments occurred to change their relationship, and she was positively frozen. "But only if y're a-wantin' to, only-girl-here." Donaghan tapped his chest just above his Gryffindor patch, and Julie found herself just senselessly kissing him for what felt like hours on end. Donaghan hugged her close as they were doing this, and the sudden warmth was almost addictively comforting. Thoughts like 'seventh-year,' 'turns eighteen,' 'dad will kill,' and 'aw, but he's so handsome,' began to race like gerbils through Julie's already out-of-sync mind. The frantic kissing began to slow down, and Julie felt Donaghan slowly letting them slump onto her bed far more horizontally than she was sure that she was comfortable with. "Are you okay, Julie?"

"Yeah, Donaghan, just…slower."

"No problem, Starcatcher." Julie began to unlace her glove and, pulling it off, she showed the scar to Donaghan for the very first time he had seen it.

"You know that's the reason why they called me that?"

"Oh, I see. A family birthmark or somethin'?"

"It's not a birthmark, it's…a scar."

"Tha's na so bad. I heard y'grew up in a orphanage w'Muggles, an' then Professors figured out you were their kid with some kind o'potion."

"That's true."

"Your dad would kill me if he ever found out, wouldn' 'e?"

"Most probably, yes."

"An' yer mum would just smile and say we make a cute-ish kind of couple?"

"I suppose she'd-how do you get that?"

"I had to ask her t'straighten up 'bout all the stories and rumors, just to get the real story of y'. I think she's quite okay wi'it, don't you?" Donaghan noticed another visitor and abruptly changed voices. "That way, when you come up from underneath 'Lexei, you could just go around the third post and be ready for the quaffle throw from Aldous." Donaghan was miming out a little Quidditch play with his hands on the imaginary miniature court formed by their chests and Julie's taken-off glove. "Then when I come around from back court, you can just snap off and get the Snitch before that Flint does. So, does 'at sound okay?" 

Julie noticed her father's heavy breathing and began to contradict the captain outrageously, suggesting a completely different play than the one that Captain Donaghan had spoken, miming it furiously with her hands as if her fingers were real players, and finishing it out with a bold and broad dramatic ending. 

"I think _that_ would work much better." she asserted belligerently, knowing that that tone of voice would make her father angry.

"Listen to your Captain, Julie, he knows far more about Quidditch than you do." She and Donaghan feigned surprise as Snape ducked through the heavy doorframe. "And as for you, McPhersen, you're being quite bright about the whole matter." For a split second they were convinced that Severus Snape had finally been fooled by a student, but the shock was later on. "You're damned right I'm going to kill you if you ever mess around with my little girl like this. If you're going to talk to each other, please do it in the library or else- well, never alone! I don't like the ideas that _Muggles_ get." He was clearly just referring to his daughter. After all, her mother had wound up involved with a teacher while at school, why wouldn't her daughter be even if not more plain dangerous? Julie shot him a annoyed look that in it's resemblance to her mother's really didn't help things at all for her. "And don't you even start to look irritated with me, girl, I know full well what you're thinking of doing!"

"Locking my door next time?" Julie inquired rhetorically in the face of one of her father's worst glares in years. 

"So you're going to let me see her?" Donaghan asked very hopefully.

"On the condition that you two remain chaperoned and not just by the paintings. If you can handle those conditions, then I suppose you two can stay…friends." 

"By that, Dad, do you mean just friends, or…"

"I don't care what you call it, just…stay out of trouble." 

"Thank you so much for permitting it, sir, I would have asked your permission, but…" 

"Well, I wouldn't have let you. Better you went sneaking around interrogating my wife, it shows better intelligence. Now both of you, clean up for the feast!" 

Donaghan kissed Julie quietly on the cheek, shook Professor Snape's hand, and was gone to his dormitory faster than a Bludger flew. Julie, a brilliant red by now, sat up and laced her glove back on. Her father sank into the opposite chair.

"I'm sorry, but we really weren't sneaking around, Dad, honest."

"I could tell by your whole conversation. And I myself apologize for spying on you. I merely wished to make sure it wasn't that Slytherin Bulgarian. McPhersen's alright-if you like the redheaded type-and I only wished to make sure you both knew I approved of things…within reason."

"I appreciate your tolerance. I also realize that it's not easy for you to approve of any relationships for fifteen-year-old girls." Snape looked up, startled. "I kind of get the idea that you and Mom could easily have gotten yourselves into a lot of trouble back before the fall of the Dark Lord, and it might seem that I'm a lot like her sometimes."

"Well, do you not consider _yourself_ trouble enough?" Snape asked sarcastically, rubbing his hands. "I had to clap for the Gryffindors today, do you know what that feels like?"

"I guess that Dumbledore's imposed a brutal punishment?"

"Oh, honestly, and I thought the man would never rebuild Azkaban. He's moved it to the bleachers!" At that last remark, Julie finally cracked up, and her dad roughly accepted her enthusiastic hug. "I really was proud of you, today, though."  
"I suppose we Snapes win this one all the time," Julie shrugged off, just as sarcastically. "Even if it still is with the Gryffindors, it's a proper Snape rite of passage and I had to go through it."

"Oh, I suppose!" Snape was actually looking genuinely proud of his daughter the Seeker. "And after all, the Seeker's House never goes on the medal. I can still boast about you in pubs like all the other wizard fathers."

__

"Dad!"

"And they'll probably run a little tidbit about it in the Daily Prophet, one of those things that the mothers like to cut out. All in all, little Starcatcher, I'd say you did well. And so about that…" Snape had his daughter hold open her hands and he aimed his wand at her gloves. They turned from old brown leather in a second to shiny dark black leather, and the old ones reappeared on the bed. "You'll need the old ones just for practice, but I daresay you could wear these in a game now. I've made all the proper modifications, see?" Sure enough, from the backs of her knuckles to the bottoms of the gloves raged an emerald serpent rampant, only a crimson lion had been added right beside it. Instead of fighting, they seemed on the same side. "You can guess just whom these old gloves once belonged to." Julie hugged her dad and sniffled, as the thought behind the gloves was overpowering. She had suspected dimly that her father was just joking about the whole business about hating all the Gryffindors, and these gloves were the first thing that proved it. She could scarcely wait to show her mum and her Quidditch team. In fact, the dual-House gloves gave her such a feeling of invincibility, she could also scarcely wait until she saw a Slytherin that crossed her. 

**************************

"Hey, you," Chloe called to Lester Bulstrode, a disgusting loafer of a boy that really bugged her. Even standing next to little Kenny Longbottom, it was clear that Chloe was no match for the revolting second-year, who grinned and cracked his knuckles. He moved closer for the fistfight, only to be silenced by a striking sharp roll of a dozen-odd cracks, all in sync and perfect unison. He spun around.

Sure enough, there was Julie and a small contingent of Gryffindors on their way to the banquet. What Lester had arranged to be a private beating had now turned into a shutdown. There were enough Gryffindors here to make pulp jelly of his bullying ripeness, and he paled as one by one he saw them all crack knuckles, wrists and necks in order. It sounded like chalk breaking. Julie leaned down very close so that he could clearly hear her speaking at a very soft whisper.

"I understand you did a hex on one of my friends, Lester Bulstrode. You should probably have realized that was quite a big mistake." 

"Uh- uh, I didn't know that Kenny was your friend."

"He's wearing red for the Quidditch game, isn't he?" Lester meekly nodded and prepared to meet his maker. "But then, you're in green, so I should probably let you keep breathing. What do you say, Kenny? Should I get him?"

Kenny, who had been coached quite skillfully by Chloe after the match, took on the appearance of deciding at leisure before releasing a self-satisfied: 

"Nah. You'll mess your robes up." Julie sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Too true, Ken. Well, we'd best get to the feast." Kenny, Chloe, Julie and the Gryffindors gave the appearance of leaving, but Julie stopped and turned on Lester. "Oh, and by the way, I've brought you something." She held up the Slytherin/Gryffindor glove like a fist, showing him the picture of intertwined snake and lion, before opening her palm to show a single, red bean. "Cherry. Your favorite."

"I can't believe the girl just did that," Nearly Headless Nick exclaimed, to which the Bloody Baron snickered and said:

"I can." The two House ghosts had been observing from within a wall of limestone.

"Would you believe we got a mixed-House? Think of it, the two of us becoming friends. Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Not really, good Sir Nicholas. On our way?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course, your Bloody Baron-ness. Truly."

"Did you just see your daughter?" Professor McGonagall inquired, looking on as Professor Granger watched the shutdown through the All-Show, a kind of two-way painting of the whole school. "It was Slytherinish, wasn't it?"

"And just like Severus, except that Kenny's dad is Neville and that was Millicent Bulstrode's son." Hermione actually seemed pleased with what had gone on, to Professor McGonagall's exasperation, but not shock.

"She just issued a death threat to a much-younger student!"

"No, her words were simply 'get' and 'keep breathing.' She might have threatened to turn him into a statue with the words of that challenge."

"True," Professor McGonagall sighed and breathed in heavily, then brightened. "But at least she's broke a record for the Gryffindors this afternoon. That might be well to send to Ron, you know, a Daily Prophet picture of your daughter's winning catch."

"You think it's going in the paper?"

"I know so, right in the middle of page three. I just talked to a reporter a few minutes ago." Hermione's brown eyes narrowed

.

"Which reporter was it?" 

"Dennis Creevey. His brother Colin got the picture-would you like to see the proof?"

"I suppose so-cripes!" 

"Now you're sounding like her father again-"

"Julie did it with crossed arms! Snitch in her left and Quaffle with her right. That means she's-"

"-An ambidextrous catcher!" McGonagall sighed in a breathless state of ecstasy. "I've wanted one for several years…I think it's fifty come next week. This is such a windfall for the Lions team…I can't thank you enough for convincing her to be a Gryffindor."

"Could you do me a small favor, though? Don't mark down her House with her name when you engrave the Seeker's Medal. It's partly Severus's victory, 'cause he and Harry taught her how to fly, y'know, and it's really an important thing to Julie, pleasing her dad, y'know."

"Oh, I've already thought of that. Besides, the House name never did go on the Seeker's Medal. The first recipient was a young man of mixed-House parents, too, and it's still a kind of Hogwarts tradition. And it seems the ribbon is always done in all four of the Hogwarts colors, so if Severus has any problems, they've been nipped out in the bud."

"That's reassuring. I noticed Julie's wearing black gloves now-are those tradition that you get with your first medal or first game or something?"

"Oh, cripe, 'Mione! They're Severus's old ones!" There was a moment of stunned silence as Professor McGonagall realized what she'd said and how she'd said it. "He must have given them to her 'cause she won her first game."

"Most likely."

Everything was seeming perfectly alright just then; the game had been won fairly and well, Julie hadn't been killed in the process, and Severus wasn't on the warpath after Gryffindor. Hermione wondered what Harry thought of how the game had gone, and just as she was about to suggest asking him to come there, he burst into McGonagall's window.

"Julie's just threatened a Slytherin!"

"We know, Harry, Lester Bulstrode." Professor McGonagall told him. Hermione couldn't help asking:

"Don't you think that he deserved it?" 

"Not Lester Bulstrode, 'Lexei Malgryevic! She told him if he ever fouls a player like that again, then she'll quit working as his partner in her father's class. Malgryevic said alright, it wasn't sportsmanlike and he'd try not to do it again, but then Flint got involved and he just shoved her up against the castle wall. It looks like a fight's breaking out down there!"

"Go try and stop them!" McGonagall told him, as Hermione picked up a broom at once. "Don't be ridiculous, you couldn't fly to save your life in this state. I'm going down, now you go get your husband! We need him to break it up if these are Slytherins." A moment's mounting and professors flew from windowpanes. Tossing a little powder into the fireplace, Hermione yelled for Severus to help her with the fight outside, just before she raced down all the steps she could to get there, too.


	7. The Seeker's Just Lost A Fight

A/N: And now for the nastiest result of a cliffhanger I've ever done...

Chapter Seven: The Seeker's Just Lost a Fight

"Professor Hagrid, thank goodness! What happened?" The angry half-giant had Flint's green robes in his left hand and Julie's red ones in his right one, holding both teenagers about their arms' length off the ground. For all appearances it looked like Julie'd lost the fight; blood gushing from some cuts and one eye swollen shut, as well as a nose smashed to a Bludger-style bloody crush. Flint's face had but one darkening eye and a bruise, although he was holding his arm to his gut oddly. Snape swept over then and smacked the Slytherin to the ground, just before he looked at Julie's face and kicked him somewhat harshly, too.

"What happened to you?" he asked of either kid and both of them. Alexei Malgryevic spoke up loudly then:

"It vos my fault, Professor, Julie asked me not to foul with such bad sportsmanship, ant zhen Flint here had to come and hit her- like a fruit." The Bulgarian spat at the green-cloaked, bleeding Flint.

"Well, where were _you_ when she was getting smashed beyond recognition?" Snape howled, ready to knock the Bulgarian into next Thursday -hard. Hagrid stopped him with a word for Malgryevic's side.

"He fought Flint for Julie like a proper gent, on'y he blacked out when that Slyth'rin hit 'im wiv' a curse. Yer Julie fought back on'y after that, plus she broke the bugger's wand ter do it." It didn't quite occur to either professor that Julie hadn't said a word to them. Just then Harry and McGonagall landed, too, followed closely by Hermione and Longbottom.

"I heard Julie got into a fight...is she okay?" Neville asked. Hagrid didn't put her down like he'd thrown Flint there.

"Julie?" Hagrid asked again, with no reply. "She 'asn't said a word since I pulled Flint away!"

"Julie, talk to us!" Hermione begged frightenedly. 

"Hagrid, can you put her down?" asked Harry, who took his honorary niece's hand, then swiftly dropped it. "Sweet Merlin, look at her fingers here!" Snape moved quickly, only to see her hands broken and splintered, poking through the skin. "She had to have her gloves off when the fight began." Chloe Davies stepped up with the gloves in her small hands.

"She took them off just after Flint hit Alexei again." 

"Hagrid, try to put her down," Snape asked, only to be silenced when she crumpled to the ground again. The half-giant pulled her back above the ground. 

"At least one of her legs has been broken, see?" Flint whispered quietly. "I don't take noble guff from Muggles, man." Snape turned on him too quickly for the boy to move, and when he turned back Flint was still and quiet like a sack.

"The full Body-Bind," he clarified. "I'd rather kill that little bag of bones, but-"

"I'm here," Hermione was saying, stroking Julie's hair. It was painfully obvious that Julie couldn't hear her, yet she still felt the need to comfort her half-grown-up child. "It's okay, Julie, Dad's here, too."

"Is Julie gonna be okay?" Chloe asked. At her words, the Seeker raised her head and croaked aloud:

"Yeah, Chloe, I'm alright...yeah." Julie raised her splintered right hand and motioned her over, causing spurts of blood to gush out. "Could you do me a favor- -go tell Donaghan?" The little first-year nodded quickly and ran off, just before Julie gave up and howled from the pain of it. She hadn't wanted Chloe there to see her cry. As swiftly as she had let out that one scary wolfish howl, she stopped any demonstration of how much it hurt, very quietly permitting herself to be carried in to Madam Pomfrey's. "By the way," she told her father, as he helped Hagrid to pick her up, "you _might_ want to take my knife out of Flint pretty soon."

"What do yeh mean, yer knife, Julie?" Hagrid asked in incredulity.

"I stabbed him in the side before he kicked my leg. Sorry if it seems a little-" Abruptly Julie's head swung to the side, and she spat several teeth on the grass below. "It'th a theap Muggle trick, I nefer should haf done that."

"He deserffed it, Julie, wish you't had a bigger vone." Malgryevic was being led up the steps beside her. For once Professor Snape agreed with Alexei.

"You aren't to be blamed, dear, it was self-defense; especially as you don't know half the curses yet."

"I thoul' haf juth hit him, Da'. A knife ith a weapon." 

"Are your teeth alright, Julie?" Hermione asked in nervous surprise, having fortunately missed her daughter's spitting all seven right top ones to the ground a moment earlier.

"I'm okay, they're juth _out,_ thath all."

"What do you mean, _out?"_

"You _don't_ want to thee thith, but-" Julie opened her mouth to reveal the lack of upper teeth there on one whole side. "They're _out_, you thee?"

"Oh my God, Julie- -we'll fix them. Madame Pomfrey can reattach them or regrow them or something. You'll be okay." Julie's reply was not only lisped, but slurred from the pain.

"I thought tho. Thankth, Hagrid, Mum, Dad- -everybody." 

And with that, the valiant Starcatcher passed out.

************************

"She's lost fully a quarter of her teeth, broken her jaw, her nose, both hands, and a tibia, plus there are some nasty cuts and bruises from the beating part. As for curses hitting her, she's been hit with Furnunculus, Squirrelus, Densaugeo, and an imperfect form of Cruciatus according to spectators, and yet I see no ill effects aside from physical- -non-magically physical, that is."

"So she dodged all the curses he threw at her?" Severus asked a little proudly of his Seeker-girl.

"It seems more like she just absorbed them or repelled them, as if she's quite immune to a curse effect." Madam Pomfrey seemed a little bit confused by this. "I can't help but wonder if the curse scar she got as a newborn helped to give her resistance of a kind we can't fathom, or-" Suddenly her face went entirely white. "Severus, do you remember when she shot her foot with a Swelling Curse?"

"All too well, Poppy. She was limping very funny for an hour."

"Because it only worked on her left _shoe_, Severus! I assumed that the swelling'd gone down, so I iced it the Muggle way. I'm a little afraid that she might be immune to Curse Magic."

"Is that a bad thing?" her mother inquired. "As I recall it, having a curse put on you is a little bit far from a good thing."

"But imagine, Hermione! If your Julie isn't conditioned very closely against evil, we might very well wind up with _worse_ than Lord Voldemort _ever_ was." Snape suddenly rose to his full and decidedly angry height.

"Are you even _daring to suggest_ that my daughter might become a new Dark Lord?" Madame Pomfrey sighed in a little bit of exasperation, completely unmoved by the terrifying sight of a very angry Severus. She explaned her worries thus then:

"No, it's just that she can't be _controlled_ by magic. Should she go into good, she might also prove to be the greatest Auror ever known because the Dark forces won't be able to touch her. It'll be up to you two to condition her. With parents like your friend Malfoy had, she would easily slip into criminal type. It was only you that kept him good, remember? Julie's just going to have to be watched very carefully."

"And the difference from how we treat her now is?"

"None, really, Severus, and I'm sorry to frighten you. I'm just very worried about the immunity, because if _that's_ what it is, then she's also immune to magical medicine. She would be in all essences Muggle-type, with the exception that she could actually _do_ magic. It's rather frightening, especially as she's injured."

"So you might not be able to help her?" Hermione asked, frightened. 

"I can set the broken jaw and tibia Muggle-style, but regrowing her teeth and repairing these hands are beyond me. I will try, though, as it may just be from curses."

"How will you be able to prove she's immune or not?"

"I'll have to fix these bones first, but then I'm going to have to have you curse her later to find out for sure." Both Severus and Hermione were shocked by this.

"Why me?"

"And what curses?"

"You're the strongest at Curse Magic in Hogwarts, Severus, and nothing stronger than the very minor, small ones. You aren't going to have to Cruciate your daughter."

"Alright, I suppose so." Severus was again sitting down by her bedside. "How are you going to fix her hands, Poppy?"

"I can't mend them because there's too many splinters, so I'm thinking of borrowing a trick out of Lockhart to fix them." Severus looked disgusted and Hermione amused by this. "I can tell you remember the incident."

"What incident? That Lockhart git couldn't-"

"He deboned Harry's arm once and Madam Pomfrey had to regrow all the bones in it." Hermione still giggled at the memory. "It hurt Harry a lot with the Skele-Gro, though, didn't it?"

"I think Julie can put up with it excellently. Besides, what's a few hours of stinging hands compared to three months with smashed broken ones?"

"So you're just going to remove and then entirely regrow the bones in them?" Severus asked a little nervously. "This wouldn't-"

"No, dear, it won't affect the way she plays Quidditch." Hermione smiled and put an arm around her clearly shaken husband.

"I was thinking, though, our Julie's ambidextrous. Would regrowing the hand bones affect it some?"

"It isn't likely. And her teeth will grow back in in much the same way." Poppy gave Hermione a very pointed look then. "Since she did inherit that one- -detail, would you give me permission to fix them right?"

"Absolutely. I think she would like that."

"What detail?" Neither woman deigned to answer him, though Hermione smiled a bit oddly. "I still haven't a clue what you're talking about." Hermione grinned as Madam Pomfrey decided to tell him:

"Teeth, Severus." 

"What's the _matter_ with Julie's teeth?" the father asked indignantly.

"As I recall it, mine had grown down past my collar and _you_ said you saw no difference." It took a second, but then the full light of memory dawned, producing a most spectacular reaction from Severus.

"I remember- I _said_ that? ...I'm sorry!"

"A bit late, now, wouldn't you say?" Madam Pomfrey asked a bit sarcastically.

"No, it's alright, Poppy. I got him to apologize and I'm happy." Hermione was smiling and behaving quite unusually, even as she looked at Julie sleeping. "I think her elbows are the only spot that's not bruised up."

"Yeth, I spoth tho," Julie observed, having come to from the laughter. 

"Are you alright, Julie?" her father asked. She didn't nod, but said:

"Yeah, I gueth tho." Madam Pomfrey aimed her wand at Julie's jaw, which instantly became fused and immobile. Her speech grew even more incoherent. "'Ay, why you did thith?"

"Your jaw is broken, Julie, and I have to fix it." Madam Pomfrey aimed a second charm to make the pain go away. "Can you try to tell me what's hurting worst?"

"Oh, thure. My handth are abtholutely thmathed tho I can't uthe them, my leg thtingth, at leatht thicth of my teeth are out, and now on top of it all, I can't move my mouth. Could you try to ficth my handth like you ficthed Donaghan's arm at the Quiddith matth?"

"Actually, Julie, I have to re-bone them. Do your teeth feel any better?"

"Not really, acthually. The _lack_ of them feelth very good, though."

"I think she means the spaces where they were have stopped hurting, right, Jule?"

"Right. 'Ay, now my handth went numb." Madam Pomfrey had neatly deboned them both. Hermione went very white as she saw all the splinters there, as she had not recalled that deboning made the pieces _come out_ from the limbs they were taken. Julie lifted a hand just to look at it. "You've turned them into thquid."

"Hold still a moment, there's still a few cuts in there." A quick spell closed up all the open wounds without a mark. "Now for that leg, and then you'll have to drink the Skele-Gro. It'll be about overnight while the bones grow in, but-"

"Thekele-Gro?" Julie interrupted, a little more nervous than usual. "No way. Uncle Harry thold me about that thtuff, I'm not taking any. Not happening. No thance." 

__

"Julia Snape," her father warned, only raising his voice to a speaking tone.

"Then again, maybe I'll juth put up with it," Julie amended. "How do you reattath teeth, Madam Pomthrey?"

"I'm going to regrow those, too, actually. Hold still a second, this might sting a little-"

There was a snapping noise like chalk or a tree branch, as Julie's tibia popped back and formed one piece. Surprisingly she hadn't flinched or whimpered.

"Did that hurt, dear?" Hermione asked her. Julie looked at her mother and smiled weird.

"I can only clenth half of my teeth, but no."

"Well, she's not immune to magical medicines," Madam Pomfrey couldn't help observing, causing Julie to look curious at all of them. 

"Why would I be immune to it?" There was a very urgent knock at the door just then.

"Never mind, we'll tell you later." Severus took one of Julie's rubbery hands and held it tight, while Hermione answered the door. He was later to reflect that perhaps that had been a bad move on his part, as Donaghan came in quite nervously.

"Are yeh alrigh', Julie?" the still red-cloaked Captain inquired. He was quite pale and his eyes were wide open, and he panted from running upstairs so fast. "I was in the dungeon when Chloe fin'lly foun' me, I'm sorry to took so long ter'-" 

"I'm alright, Donaghan." Julie told him, teeth still clenched tight. "I've juth gotten my leg bone repaired, there."

"That bleedin'-" Donaghan stopped short of a much-greater swearword as he recalled Professor Granger's presence, "-he broke your leg, did 'e?"

"He's broken one leg, both hands, her jaw, her nose and knocked eight teeth out. The knife wound to the ribs that _she_ gave _him_ was merely superficial." Madame Pomfrey seemed to have a knack for making men angry with sentences. Donaghan nearly exploded from that news.

__

"That bloody bastard!" He gave Professor Granger an apologetic look but she only grinned at him. "I'm sorry, but that's beyond tol'ratin'. Where 'ave they put that bleedin' miscreant?"

"Actually, Mr. McPhersen, Mr. Flint has been sent into custody, both for causing grievous bodily harm-"

"Damn straight 'e did."

"-and attempting the use of the Cruciatus Curse." Professor Snape was a little pleased with the Gryffindor student's reaction.

"I'll kill the Slyth'rin myself if yeh let me! What y'mean, attempting... that bloody..."

"I say attempting 'cause it didn't work on Julie." 

This news surprised Donaghan and Julie as well from the looks of it. 

"Flint tried the Cruthiatuth Curth on me?"

"It didn't work on y', really, though, did it?"

"I can't remember anything hurting." Everybody looked at her. "I mean athide from the _obviouth_ cutth an' thingth."

"How come it didn't work on Julie, sir?" Donaghan asked quite normally of the tall dark-haired professor. "I know Flint's lousy an' bleedin' at curses, but _still_, 'fessor."

"We have reason to believe that Julie may carry an immunity to most of Curse Magic," Snape clarified, at which news Donaghan looked pleased and Julie quite incredulous.

"You mean curtheth might not even hurt me?"

"Julie, tha's neat! 'Ow y'do that?"

"I don't know, and I can't think why they think it."

"Julie, Flint tried at least four different curses and none of them left any effects on you. It probably has to do with that spell scar you've got." Madame Pomfrey again caused a furor with two little sentences. 

"Like Uncle Harry ith a Parthelmouth?"

"We don't even know for sure what spell her scar was!"

"Talkin' 'bout that star-shaped one on your hand, righ', Julie?"

"I'm not thure what all thith ith about, but it dothen't thound like anything is happy here." Suddenly Donaghan gave Julie a curious, interesting look.

"Why're y'talkin' like that, only-girl?"

"My jaw's fithed thut and I've got about eight teeth mithing. I mutht look like a train-wreck all bruithed like thith." Donaghan sat down beside her and stroked her hair.

"I think yeh look lovely." Julie arched an eyebrow at him first in disbelief and then in warning as she remembered her parents were right beside, watching. He got the message and abruptly changed his tactic. "Yeah, the bruises look good for a Seeker-girl. Looks like a nice shiner startin', an' that nose could go just as well broken."

"Excuth me?" Julie asked in indignance, pointing first at her crushed nose and then at her father with a hand that seemed as rubbery and lifeless as a latex glove. Donaghan was suitably appalled by that. "I like my nothe juth fine!"

"What did yeh do to 'er 'and?" Donaghan asked Madam Pomfrey, who explained it as she poured a glass of Skele-Gro. 

"But I have to fix her jaw first-" there was another twist and 'pop' as pieces fused again, "-so the Skele-Gro doesn't distort her face."

"You call thith not dithtorted?"

"I meant distort it _permanently_. If the Skele-Gro bonds to the ends of two broken bones, it'll make them start to grow towards each other. Then they start to buckle like misaligned teeth when they meet up, and-"

"Poppy, please, that isn't- -what I'd like to hear." Professor Snape had gone quite green from that description. Even though he could stand far worse on a fairly regular and usual basis, graphic medical terminology gave him a nasty sort of feeling when it was addressed in the sense of being relevant to his family. Right at that moment he was trying to think about Quidditch scores, potions, or _anything_ to put his mind off the worrying about his daughter.

Professor Granger, on the other hand, was looking strangely at the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and her daughter. She was fairly sure that it wasn't just bruises he'd been admiring, even if Quidditch players did seem to covet scars as marks of honor. Julie's heated defense of her how her nose looked could be one of two things, either an attempt to convey that she was trying to look like her parents and be the kind of daughter they wanted, or Julie's trying to make it seem like she and Donaghan had really just been talking of normal things- -when it was otherwise fairly obvious they weren't. Hermione looked over her daughter's face, swollen eyes already going to purple, broken nose giving her a rakish Bludger-beaten appearance, jaw still locked so painfully closed as she tried to speak through half a set of clenched teeth; and yet Julie was still glad to see Donaghan. And she had asked Chloe to tell him after the fight ended, so she probably liked him as more than a Captain to Seeker. 'Yes,' she thought, 'our Julie is definitely interested.' She remembered also that Donaghan had asked her a _lot_ of detailed questions about Julie, more than one might expect about just a new student or a player on a team. And just a moment ago he had offered to kill Matt Flint, definitely a sign of more than just a normal friend's loyalty. Hermione remembered how often Ron and Harry had suggested a justified homicide, which was something typical of closest friends or brother-types, and she knew that Julie would have said if they were that close. No, McPhersen definitely fancied her Starcatcher. 

Even though Julie had hated that word as a last name, as a middle one she seemed to not mind it, probably because of the Quidditch thing. Hermione was a little surprised to discover that any relation of hers could play sports very well, but not disappointed as she realized how much Julie liked it. It also gave her something new to study, as she had never played or wanted to herself despite all 'her guys'' playing the game and always talking of it fondly- -_always_. Sometimes she suspected that the first thing they had talked about together without snarling had been Quidditch. 'Her guys' was the term Ginny used for Severus, Ron and Harry; or more properly, 'their guys' when they were both together. Ginny had gotten used to Severus the fastest, as neither Ron or Harry could really think why she could have possibly started to like the man, let alone wind up in a relationship with during school and eventually marry two years after graduation. Even thirteen years after they'd married, Harry and Ron still got a little weird whenever Julie showed up around them. Hermione herself was a little surprised at the idea of an illegitimate child, although, as she had pointed out to Julie, it was a matter of merely 'technical' illegitimacy; acting on the theory that their union was lacking _only_ legal sanction. Julie had agreed to that normally, even though Hermione now suspected she knew it was just her method of lessening something socially improper to herself. Julie probably didn't care a fig about things like illegitimacy, especially as practically every kid in an orphanage had it. Severus seemed entirely too pleased to have a child, especially one so like the pair of them, to care about technicalities and 'proper-ness.' In fact, Severus probably liked her all the better for the eccentric way that they had found her, loving her more when he considered how close they'd come to never even knowing she existed. Julie was ecstatic with her father, proving not only how much she seemed like him in sporting skill, but in deviousness, suavity, and, appallingly, temperament. They would argue like raging dogs, Severus pulling in the wisdom of ages to make a point and Julie shooting him down with the layman's sharpest logic. Then they'd insult, with Severus insisting on calling her a 'black-haired partial-Muggle' while Julie referred to him as 'dungeon-boiled dragon-nose.' It was funny that they always managed to snipe at the very characteristics that they shared the most. Then they'd imitate, Severus speaking Julie in a ridiculously high and squeaky 'girly' voice, as Julie growled like a bear with her eyes narrowed. Neither one came close to really looking like the other. And then one would finally shout to scare the other one, such as Julie's daring him to take points off in front of her mother or Snape's threatening to throw her off the Quidditch team, always something that they knew the other'd never do. Then the fight was abruptly over and they'd return to what they had been doing. It was the most singularly bizarre way of showing affection that Hermione had gone and asked Harry, who had simply grinned and said that 'Ron did it quite well back in school, too'. Sometimes he was so completely useful it was sickening, especially in being an 'uncle' for Julie now. Harry had painstakingly taught her to Seek with Severus, a method of learning that sounded a lot like good cop-bad cop; quite effective if Julie's playing indicated. Julie also talked to Harry about scars and things, as it was plain the two had most of their background in common. Growing up among hostile or indifferent people, having a peculiar mark that turned out later to be magical, finding a family at last within Hogwarts, and playing Seeker for Gryffindor made them close. Hermione often found herself neatly cornered after Harry had slipped out an anecdote, such as the time she had given herself fur and a tail when a potion went nasty. Julie, of couse, had demanded to try it, only to be silenced by a crow turning into her father and suggesting that Animagic 'might be a better way to do that, now.' Harry also wound up leading her a bit astray, as an adventure with two loaned prized possessions landed Julie her first detention from someone other than her father. In his old age Filch had not gotten any kinder, but Mrs. Norris had learned to take a bribe for catnip or tuna, a tip Julie had gotten from the Weasley cousins; so of course the three of them had gone out to raid the kitchens, mixed their cats, and gotten nailed by a Transfigured Professor McGonagall. Hermione dimly suspected that Minerva had been more amused than angry, as the look on the three of their faces was probably worth a bit of prowling around as a cat at night. Besides, Professor McGonagall would never have punished them harshly, as two Beaters and a Seeker, they were allowed a few minor transgressions there. In fact, Professor McGonagall was notoriously fair about punishments, and the trio's potato peeling with the house-elves turned out quite well- -but for Julie's inventing contests: to peel a whole one while leaving the peel in one piece, the most potatoes peeled in three minutes, turn around while peeling without getting dizzy...sometimes she really was bright and bad. All in all she found her daughter quite important now, and the sight of her beaten and injured was very hard. The sight at the same time of her fancying Donaghan McPhersen was considerably easier, and quite really, nice. It was good to know that there was a student to protect her girl.

That led her to another thought- -the Bulgarian. He had stood up for her against a Slytherin and been knocked out by a curse for his friendship. So was it friendship or did he fancy Julie like Severus thought? She knew the Weasleys thought of her as extra cousin, and the three other Quidditch boys seemed like perfectly average guy-people, but how many others were there who actually fancied her daughter? And how would Julie think to take these boys' attentions? Going by her father's side, she'd use them as her servant-types, but going by herself she knew she'd run to ask her friends' advice, immediately after the library and owling her mother, too. She knew Severus would fly off the handle, if not menacingly around the grounds like an oversized raven until he'd frightened every breathing male at Hogwarts. She would probably wind up having 'talks' with both of them- -how much had Julie been taught at the orphanage? Good lord, she was nearly sixteen and might even know all about dating, even be totally expert at it, except she hadn't seemed the sort to know about it...

"Mom, you're really looking nervouth. I'll be okay." There was Julie, jaw unclenched now and about to drink the Skele-Gro. Her hands were on a table that swung over the bed and she sat up looking tensely at a glass and straw. "Thith won't take a-" awkwardly she tried to bend and get the straw in her mouth, but the lack of teeth prevented her holding it. Donaghan finally picked it up and held it at her head level, looking nervously and then incredulously at Julie's emptying the glass in one swallow. "Cripe, that burnth! Thankth, Donaghan, I really couldn't get that thtraw."

"Yeah, it's a good thing yeh Seek with your 'ands an' not your teeth, Julie." She gave him a look and he amended his statement. "Well, it still wouldn' make it easy on the Snitch, y'know."

"Were you planning to remain with Julie while her bones regrow?" Madame Pomfrey asked him quite devoid of innuendo. "Her parents have been summoned by the Headmistress, as there's a matter that they have to discuss with her. They probably should be back before it's nightfall, but if the Ministry sends word that they're needed, well,-"

"I was hopin' I could stay here wi' Julie," Donaghan interjected, again amending things as he recalled the two professors' presence. "Got ter' make sure yeh don' move your 'ands like she said cause then we're out another Seeker, righ'?"

"Oh, just admit it, you've been worried since you heard it!" Severus abrasively but not unkindly suggested. Donaghan glanced at Hermione and shrugged.

"Alrigh', I was worried, but jus' on account of I like 'er, y'know?" Julie went a little red but didn't comment. Severus just leaned back and looked at them.

"Good, 'cause I was wondering when you two planned to tell her mother. What do you think of this setup, Hermione?"

He had known -and Donaghan was still breathing. Hermione wondered how he'd been convinced to allow it.

"I think it's perfectly alright for him to like her, as long as Julie's quite okay with it also."

"Oh, she's okay with it, believe me!"

"Dad, do you-"

"Severus, how'd you know this was going on?" The professor grinned at the two now furiously reddening Gryffindors and suggested:

"Why don't you two tell her?"

"He caught us kissing, ma'am. It wasn' nothin' dang'rous."

"And it wathn't like he wathn't eavethdropping anyway, nothing could have pothibly happened-"

"espec'lly since i' only started 'bout two hours ago, us- -what're we doin', Julie?"

"I don't know, really, whether thith ith dating or another thing. Dad thaid to call it whatever we wanted, though."

"You mean you approved of this happening?" Hermione asked in total disbelief of things. Severus nodded and continued quite cynically.

"I forbade them to be caught alone unchaperoned, and no, dear, the paintings do _not_ count, and I knew he'd have to meet your approval, so?"

"Caught alone unchaperoned?"

"Yeah, I figured they would try to cross it anyway so I might as well forbid getting caught instead."

"Not to theem overconfident, Dad, but the only thingth we might do alone would be flying and talking and- -nevermind."

"No, I'd like to hear what else you'd be doing. Or are there too many 's's for the toothless one?"

"Naw, juth not enough witharding wordth that might cover it," Julie retorted sarcastically. "After all, you don't like the ideath that Muggleth get, tho-"

"Yeh aren' really thinkin' o' doin' stuff this early, now?" Donaghan asked in what appeared to be abject shock at his girlfriend's mind. Julie shook her head then.

"No, I juth like to argue with Dad thometimeth. It theemed the appropriate backlath."

"Whatever you meant, I really hope you grow your teeth back." Severus looked perfectly at ease once again, even though his daughter's agile comment had for a second frozen him mid-action. "Between his accent and your lisp I can't think how I'll understand what you're both saying." Hermione was just about to reproach him for the comment, but Julie beat her again with a swift retort.

"Thath alright, becauth you probably won't like it."

"Don't think he will, either, unless you swallow like you take drinks-"

__

"Severus!" Hermione came within an inch of smacking him right out of Europe. Julie grinned and snapped right back with:

"Thankth for the idea, Dad."

__

"Both of you! Severus, why on earth would you say that?-Julie, where on earth did you learn it?"

"Banana splits, I'd wager." She smacked him.

"No, really, Profethor Longbottom juth grew thome nice zhuccini, that whath-"

"Julie-girl!" Donaghan looked really quite shocked at her. "You aren' really knowin' how ta'-?"

"Courth I don't. I juth knew that people did that and rethponded to the challenge."

"Yeh can argue better than yeh catch at Quidditch!" Donaghan's delight in her odd hobby was astounding. Severus looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"I knew there was a reason I allowed this one." Hermione ruefully nodded, then warned:

"If I catch you two using language like that _ever,"_

"Oh, don't worry. It was juth a pathing inthult phathe."

"I'm sorry, dear, but what'd you say?"

"Passin' insult phase," Donaghan clarified. "So, is it alrigh' with you if I date her?"

"Of course, Donaghan. Actually, I'm hoping maybe you can break her of the arguing."

"He'th more likely to win the Cup without a broomthitick."

"Aw, naw, Professor, I think she's really sort o' funny." Donaghan gave Julie a radiant grin.

"You haven't seen her when she's angry, yet, I'm certain." Severus got up and ruffled his daughter's hair. "I guess it's only when they start dating teachers that they really get dangerous."

__

"Severus Snape!"

"Aw, really, dad, the cuteth one's married." _That_ turned her father's face back from a smirking grin. "Bethideth, I'm really more partial to redheadth." Hermione gave Julie just as shocked a look as Severus before she amended: "No way, definitely juth my own age typeth." For a second they had thought of 'uncle' Ron in there. Donaghan, however, chipped in:

"Actur'lly, I'm about two years-"

"Doesn't count," (or 'doethn't count,') all three of the Granger-Snapes chorused. Madame Pomfrey laughed and reminded the two older ones they had to leave. Professor McGonagall had to find out what had happened from their side about the whole affair with Flint and Malgryevic, and she probably wanted to know how their Julie was doing. Right before they left Julie had to drink another glass, this time a whitish-gray potion that would regrow half the teeth in her upper jaw. She took it like the last one, then blushed faintly as she recalled her father's comment.

"I was joking, dear," he stated, knowing just how inappropriate the rash words had been just then.

"I know, Dad. I don't take it theriouthly."

"I'd be worried if anyone really does."


	8. A Night Of Regrowing Bones

A/N: Alright, since the last chapter was kind of long, I think I'll just keep this to 'little plot.' I got a review hoping I'd finish this 'even though I only had five reviews' and therefore making it six, but also expressing confusion as to how Julie could be Hermione & Snape's daughter. So I'll explain. Here you go.  
  
Chapter Eight: A Night Regrowing Bones and Learning Things  
  
"Your dad isn' always so mean as 'e'd like to have students think, is 'e, now?"  
  
"I figured that out the firtht day I met him," Julie observed, unwittingly providing Donaghan with a method of asking something he'd wondered and worried about.  
  
"It must be odd, just getting parents when you're sixteen."  
  
"Fifteen, acthually, my birthday'th not 'til January." Julie thought a bit and added, "Yeah, it it'th a little weird. But they're tho like me I feel like I've known them, like, all my life inthtead of juth the patht theveral monthth of it."  
  
"I kna' y'love 'em even when they make y'crazy."  
  
"I figured that out on the firtht day, too." Donaghan looked more than a little distressed as he looked over Julie's face, so she asked him- "Do I really look horrible bruithed like thith?" He frowned, then traced a line from her ear to her swollen lip.  
  
"Two eyes blacker'n midnight, a nose that looks crunched like a Bludger done, lips-one's been split an' th' other's swellin', y're missin' eigh' teeth and y're still lookin' beautiful." He kissed her gently on the upper and less painful lip, not knowing Julie would have kissed him with a missing one. She was genuinely happy to see him, and he was hoping that he didn't manage to hurt or upset her more. "I think y're hand's thicker," he offered, knowing that they probably hurt like they were closed in fire. "And your lisp is fading...do you feel any nubs of teeth yet?"  
  
"I had forgotten what it felt like, but yeah. Teething thucks, really." Julie was making a genuinely peculiar face from the discomfort of the rapidly growing teeth. "I think I almotht mith having my jaw fithed thut, it doethn't thting tho much then."  
  
"I've got an idea." Donaghan raced over to the cold box- -the wizarding idea of a refrigerator- -and returned with a clean cloth and three ice cubes. "Here." He folded the washcloth around the ice cubes, then crushed them in between his strong catcher's hands.He unfolded the washcloth and began to put bits of crushed ice in the space where Julie's teeth would be growing in. "Y'll 'ave a bit 'o trouble talkin', but it'll 'urt a sigh' less. Does this feel ar'righ', jus' nod if it's a 'yes', y'know?"  
  
Julie nodded, as the space was feeling much better with the ice; leaving her to wonder how he'd learned a trick for teething pain. The fact that he had just hand-fed her was really no problem, as on the Quidditch team the players had to be close like that. Like siblings, they would share a cup or plate ofttimes, never quibbling about whose drink was whose or that stuff. Sometimes they even had snacks in midair as an exercise in dexterity, throwing small bits of food for the others to catch between teeth- -her introduction of donut holes proving a marvelous hit. And on the ground at Hogsmeade, Tom and Tim regularly came up to her with 'Julie, try this,' proffering a tidbit and neatly tossing one into her mouth usually mid- protest, after which she usually turned into something odd. Once or twice they had done that to Donaghan, until it got to the point that he, Julie, and the others just accepted their fate with wry dignity, turning into canaries, great lizards, and whatnot to the vast amusement of the cousins and their oddball dads. Donaghan seemed a little uncomfortable with silence, though, and as she couldn't move her hands to gesture, she spoke up again:  
  
"That really helped it a lot, Donaghan, thank you." He grinned and kissed her again on the upper lip, only to have her move just a little for a proper kiss. The surprise and vague amusement shone out from his eyes. "I'm not going to break if you touch me, Captain, you'd do well not to underestimate your Seeker now." Arch though her remark may have been, Julie did not expect to see the look of shock her Captain gave her then. "What?"  
  
"Julie, you jus' said a whole mess of 's's perfec'ly." Donaghan was looking at her cheek in awe. "Y've done grown your firs' front tooth back ar'ready!"  
  
"I kinda thought that the big ones would come in first," Julie remarked wryly, thinking of the 'long-molared Muggle' crack that Flint had made before he knocked out half of the teeth in her upper jaw. Julie had unfortunately inherited her mother's rather large front incisors, and but for her father's nose and eyebrows might have looked something like a bushyhaired rabbit-girl- -at least in her personal opinion. 'Uncle Harry' had told her how her mother had shrunk her teeth years ago, and she hoped that Madam Pomfrey'd maybe help with that. It wasn't that she thought her teeth were ugly, just that they really didn't fit quite right for her size of face. Or maybe she'd really grow into them.  
  
It wasn't something she would waste time complaining on, especially with such important matters looming large around. What would become of her now she had stabbed a student there? True, it had been self-defense and fair, but honestly. It was the kind of trick that Muggles would give jail time for- -and she'd been told what wizard prison used to be 'back then.' That was a term she found strange, but oddly useful for a lot of things; anything dating to the time before her birth and therefore Voldemort's downfall was classified by parents' friends as from 'back then.' It was a bit like the way Muggles referred to times before wars, she thought, and evidently this evil Lord Voldemort had been a kind of wizard Hitler or Osama bin Laden in her parents' time.  
  
There was another term that seemed too odd to use for her! Julie had no real definition of 'her parents' time', as one's started twenty years before the other's did. She knew full well her father was older than her mother was, even strangely so, according to the students she had classes with. But Julie also knew full well they didn't get it, as all Hogwarts students could perceive of her father was unfavorable, cynical, and very strict. And her mother insisted he'd mellowed some! Julie had a knack for observation of the closest kind, but thought it obvious that her parents loved each other so much they could hardly see. Why couldn't the other kids notice that?  
  
It occurred to her that wizard kids didn't read Muggle books, and maybe that was the reason it seemed odd to them. A lot of the reason why Julie found her father's age quite normal was her third-grade addiction to the book "To Kill a Mockingbird," and quite probably watching "The Sound of Music" nearly fifty times added to her concept of an older dad as quite alright. Orphans tended to form images of parent-types, and Julie realized hers had always shown her father as an Atticus, over fifty, but still bright of eye and very smart. Now it turned out her real father was chronologically near to fifty-two, but only looked a weathered thirty-five with hair still black. It was the voice that made her father seem his 'number-age.' And her mother looked the age she was, calendar saying thirty- three inaccurate due to time-travel back in her student days. Julie wasn't sure what her mum had looked like as a student there, but her dad described the change as merely 'taller, some, plus now she wears the teachers' robes.' Sometimes he wasn't that helpful. She had been hoping to grow a little more herself, actually, as five-foot-five was unacceptable for grown- up Snapes. The innate will to be like both of her parents was a driving force, and Julie noted heights and genes and tried to meet the norm. Her father being more than six feet tall, she had decided that some growing was in order, then. Her mother always having whiter teeth than anyone resulted in a brushing/flossing/mouthwash-slugging fanaticism- -not a problem when her grandparents were dentists, true.  
  
She never stopped to wonder if it might be bad for her. After all, with such opposite parents, there was very little room to go to overkill. She would never be an absolute Slytherin, any more than she could try to be a perfect Gryffindor. Julie wondered whether the founders of Hogwarts had fought a lot, and decided it must have turned out the way her mother and dad's rare arguments usually did. One wound up making a final impassioned point to the other one, and the second either proposed a clever compromise or agreed with them. If all else failed they had Professor McGonagall mediate, as the one time they had let Julie had been disastrous beyond reckoning. It was on a question of decorating, and red and green did not prove really complimentary in color sense. Sometimes Julie wondered what their house away from school was like. They would probably be staying there over Christmas break, and Julie wasn't sure if snakes and lions went that well. Sure, they looked fine together on Quidditch gloves, but green and red might not make the most inviting carpet scheme. All she knew about her home was that it was her home; she had never been there or seen what it looked like. But Julie was sure that she would find her home a lovely place. Any place with her mother's touch was friendly to her.  
  
**************************************************************************** *  
  
Julie spent a lot of time flying with her father, true, but it was the long studying and talking with her mother that she found to be the best and most perfectly useful time she spent at Hogwarts. Coming directly into fifth- year required some extra work to catch up to things, and who better to tutor Julie than her Professor Granger? Hermione found helping Julie study to be wonderful, at last with a student who seemed just as much if not more of a know-it-all than she was. She had only to mention a spell she'd once learned, and the next day Julie'd have found it in at least seven books and mastered it completely. And for all of her daughter's wry sarcasm, it reminded her of Severus, and she liked that. It seemed not too long ago she had heedlessly started a relationship with her Professor, and this living, breathing mixture of the two of them was a reminder of all the years they had had together so far. As much as she longed to have been a part of Julie's missing childhood, Hermione did have a very tiny feeling of relief she didn't find out she had a daughter at age eighteen. She had genuinely no recall of Julie's birth, or even of anything from her kidnapping to rescue later. There was a gaping ten-month hole in her memory, and all it left her was a close to accurate date of Julie's probable conception back in seventh year. There was something called an anticeptive charm on all of Hogwarts, meaning that no child could be conceived unless both parties wanted there to be one. Evidently the 'didn't want one then' clause had proved to be the cause of Julie's existence, as there was probably no other way to circumvent the charm. Thinking of her school days brought back a memory of one particular day- -when she was walking over to Hagrid's…  
  
She was meeting Harry and Ron on a violently rainy day at their favorite teacher Hagrid's wooden cottage. There were only a few clouds as she changed her clothes, but by the time she left for Hagrid's it was storming hard. She ran into a professor as she pulled open the door, soaking wet, who sharply told her to  
  
"Get out of my way- oh, it's you."  
  
"Yes, what's your hurry Sev- I mean Professor Snape?" There was a momentary glance around by both of them to make sure that they were totally alone right there.  
  
"I was hoping to see you, actually. Where are you going in this thunderstorm?"  
  
"To Hagrid's, I'm meeting Harry and Ron there."  
  
"Shall I see you in the dungeons then afterward?"A Hufflepuff third-year suddenly appeared from around the corner. "Detention this evening, then, Miss Granger." It was one of his easiest tricks when students were approaching- -pretend to be angry and then give her a detention. Hermione stifled her grin and tried her best to look ticked-off at him for this. The third-year was suitably impressed, moving swiftly away as the 'angry' professor passed. Hermione opened the door again and stepped outside, instantly realizing why Severus had been so surprised about her going outside. There were rain and clouds so thick that she could barely see. 'No matter,' she thought, and absently walked off towards Hagrid's house.  
  
The rain began to smell more like trees as she drew closer to the Forbidden Forest. Unafraid, she simply walked on as if it weren't there. Suddenly, a streak of lightning lit up the cloudy sky. She felt a hand clutch her shoulder and instantly the arm felt numb and frozen cold. Retaliating in the only way she could, Hermione drew her wand with her left hand and spun to face the man.  
  
The hooded figure with the ratlike face was Wormtail. Needless to say, she didn't get to Hagrid's.  
  
"Hermione!" Professor McGonagall looked as if she'd been calling for minutes.  
  
"Wha- oh, yes, go on."  
  
"I was asking you what you thought we should do about Matius Flint's expulsion."  
  
"Oh, Matt Flint. Yeah- I guess…right." Severus abruptly took Hermione's arm and she looked at him.  
  
"You've been doing that really too often, love."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just- -thinking again. Where were we?"  
  
"It's Minerva's opinion the we should expel Matt Flint. What do you think, dear?"  
  
"I don't know. You're his Head of House, Severus."  
  
"That's the thing. She thinks that I'm too biased because it was Julie he fought back there." Snape gave McGonagall a look of artless innocence. Hermione was lightly shocked by his joking manner but more so by McGonagall's asking for her thoughts.  
  
"And you think I'm any better, Minerva?"  
  
"You're notoriously fairer than your husband is, and as a parent of the victim you have a say in this."  
  
"I think what he did was unforgiveable, but don't you think that we should find out why he did it?"  
  
"We were just planning to while you were painting sky in the slide zone there." Both females looked at Severus suddenly, unable to decipher the peculiar idiom.  
  
"You've been talking to Julie, then, haven't you?" Sheepishly he nodded. Professor McGonagall and Hermione were both pretty close to giggling despite the gravity of the topic at hand. "I don't suppose you have any idea why she says that, right?"  
  
"No, it's a legitimate expression for daydreaming while something else is going on- -just a very odd one, I guess. Must be a Muggle thing." Hermione grinned, knowing full well why her daughter said that.  
  
"Alright, anyway. So you think that we should go find out Flint's motive before deciding whether to expel the boy or not, Hermione?"  
  
"Definitely. Where are you watching him?"  
  
"Actually, I've put Flint in Hagrid's care; they should both be Remus' old Shrieking Shack." Noting their looks of confusion, Professor McGonagall explained: "There are still the old werewolf-chains in the walls."  
  
"I don't think that's very-"  
  
"I think so." Severus had no qualms about chaining Flint up. "It's not like you, Minerva, but I like it still."  
  
"You can't chain up a student in the Shrieking Shack!"  
  
"Actually, Hermione, I just did." Professor McGonagall basked in the shocked look Hermione gave her for a second and then smiled. "I'm just kidding! Hagrid's got him in the greenhouse out with Neville now."  
  
"Oh, like that's better!" Severus looked jokingly about to pout at her. "Couldn't you have chained him up and beat him some?"  
  
"I honestly hope you're joking, dear. It isn't fair to beat him up for fighting her."  
  
"She's right, Severus. We should let Neville and Harry take a wand to that little miscreant, they know how to make a kid apologize."  
  
"Professor!"  
  
"Don't you think they'd treat him worse than you or Severus could?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but that's not a-"  
  
"Of course it's a good thing, love. Let them on."  
  
"Both of you are really getting bloodthirsty about this."  
  
"And aren't you glad we're doing it so humorously?"  
  
"You're right, 'cause I'd be just as bad if you weren't here."  
  
**************************  
  
"Ar'righ', yeh little git, straigh'en up, Professors 'ere ter see yeh now." While not being overly mean to Matius Flint, Hagrid did have a fairly keen sense of how to treat the slumped and sullen little criminal. Hence the boy was sitting on a stool without a back, as Neville and Hagrid guarded him from fluffy chairs. Flint was bruised a little on the face and clearly tired, and as he struggled not to fall right off the tiny seat Neville had a way of making cracks at him. Mostly it was just a few sharp things about how no real men ever hit ladies, but a few remarks had the effect of making Flint straighten and almost move to strike the smiling-faced 'Professor Nev.' By the time the Headmistress showed up with the Snapes he looked quite red, both from fury at his jailors and a shameful blush. The dark- haired, square-jawed boy stepped off the stool and looked at Snape.  
  
"So, how's your kid, sir? Talking well?" Sarcastically, he hoped to make the teacher mad. But Snape just looked at him as if he were a flobberworm.  
  
"Flint, I'm very disappointed that a Slytherin would ever have to sink this low- -to hit a girl's like stepping on a baby snake." It was clear from the way Flint went redder and lowered his eyes that the words from his Head of House hurt the worst. "If you had a problem with her, why not just use your wand to duel like a man?"  
  
"She- -she broke my wand, sir, after I cursed Malgryevic down." The insolence was gone from the Slytherin's voice. Snape moved closer to the boy and gave him a withering look.  
  
"How did she do it?"  
  
"She disarmed me and then caught it, sir, and snapped it in her left hand with her wand in right." Flint was actually appearing a little ashamed of things, so Snape turned to the other professors and motioned for them to leave. "I- -I only meant to fight Malgryevic, sir, he lost the game because he …likes your daughter, sir. I saw them talking and got angry…don't know what I did."  
  
"Why didn't you just rag on Malgryevic in the common room?" Snape blinked a second, realizing that the term 'rag on' was a Julie-ism meaning 'tease.' Flint gave him a look of contrition and replied:  
  
"I don't know, sir." Snape gave him a curious, menacing glance. "I knew I couldn't bother him for fancying your daughter, sir."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Because he's not the only one who likes her, sir."  
  
This news hit Snape like a ton of bricks. He had gotten so used to seeing Julie as his little girl, it was a total shock to realize that she was desirable to boys. And given the many ways she looked like him, it seemed like a surprise she was so pretty to them. It had never occurred to him that the totally black hair she'd inherited set off her cinnamon eyes almost perfectly, his hawklike nose in female form giving her young face character beyond her years. In disbelief he looked at Flint again, and realized precisely why the Slytherin was so contrite.  
  
"Which ones do, Flint? I'd like to know honestly."  
  
"Well, the entire Quidditch team thinks that she's talented-"  
  
"Damn straight."  
  
"-and a lot of the guys think that she looks- -like you-"  
  
"It's obvious she does, I want opinions, Flint!"  
  
"Well…a lot of the guys think she looks cute, sir."  
  
"Cute?"  
  
"More like pretty, and friendly and…really nice." Snape lowered his voice and moved close to Flint.  
  
"Are you among the guys who thinks she's 'really nice'?" Nervously, Flint nodded. "I thought so. How do you think she likes you now with half her teeth knocked out? Ever used Skele-Gro to regrow a bone before? She's got both of her hands regrowing from the way you smashed them up. Should I expel you or just make you to apologize?" Flint raised his head as if to answer and Snape said: "Shut up. It was a rhetorical question, Flint. I really wonder just how much my daughter hates you now." 


	9. What a Muggle Hates

A/N: And now back to the hospital wing…here you go.

Chapter Nine: How Much a Muggle Hates

"Julie? Are you still awake?" her father called. Sure enough, his daughter was sitting up in bed with hands flat on the table, playing wizard chess with Donaghan. Judging by the Scottish boy's expression she had won a few.

"I'm still up, Dad, I've only got one tooth to go." Julie gave her father an exaggerated smile showing new white teeth.

"She's beat me seven times an' tha's a' wizard chess!" Donaghan looked a little bit jokingly despondent about it. "I didn' kna' Muggles coul' play this game!"

"Uncle Ron?" her father asked.

"Definitely."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're learning from your mother's friends. I've brought somebody here who's being made to apologize." Abruptly Donaghan was on his feet with wand drawn.

"Tha' Flint bastard's not-"

"It's okay," Julie told him, and the Scot sat down. "I have to tell him sorry too about the stabbing thing- -don't worry, Dad, I can't quite hold a wand just yet."

"So you're alright with it?" She nodded. "Then McPherson, I will have to ask you to leave for a few minutes at the most. You can come back after Flint's left, will that be okay?"

"Of course, Professor."

"Or else maybe you could let the Gryffindors know how their Seeker is."

"I think I'll do tha', sir."

"Could you tell Chloe Davies that I'm okay, please?"

"Sure thing, only-girl-here, I'll be back righ' soon." He left them very calmly after giving Julie the gentlest kiss on the cheek. 

As soon as he was certain the Scot had gone, Snape motioned to Hagrid to bring Flint up from the corridor. With typical presence of mind, he hadn't let the Slytherin wait right outside the door to the hospital wing, just in case Donaghan felt –vengeful.

The dark-haired, slouching boy ambled nervously into the hospital wing, shocked to horror at the sight of the Seeker's hands. Even though they were now shaped like hands again as the tarsals were beginning to grow in as hard bone, the bruises made them purple like mottled gloves. Julie's face, with two black eyes, broken nose, and lurid grin was the hardest for the Slytherin to look at then. He knew that second that he liked Snape's daughter terribly, and also that she hated him like pestilence. However, instead of saying something mean or frowning at him, Julie looked a little shy and half-smiled showing most of her new white teeth.

"I'm sorry that I knifed you in that fight back there."

"I'm sorry, too, Miss-" Flint glanced at Severus, "-Snape. I should never have gotten involved in the first place, and the violence I used was inexcusable."

"Naw, that's okay. I'd've done the same thing if you broke my wand."

"That was right before I broke your leg, Jul- -miss. I was the one in the wrong."

"It was a fight, Flint. Fights are bloody sometimes, sometimes people get cut up and some bones get broken. But fights end. Our fight's over. Let's be civil and dispense with all the worrying." 

Nervously Flint agreed to this and Julie had him sit down to the left of her. A mischievous grin had been sprouting and suddenly reached it's full ear-to-ear.

"So, d'you like to play chess at all?" 

Her dad smiled.

**************************************

"You mean she wasn't ticked at all about the injuries?"

"Not in the slightest! She thinks fights are fights and now it's over, so her hating him is pointless. Apparently it's a tradition that she learned in the Muggle schools."

"Was Flint shocked by this?"

"Incredibly, and very ashamed of things. I've sent him back to his dormitory with a month of detention- -I thought Harry might need some Bludgers cleaned, and Hagrid's lawn…"

It seemed incredible that Julie wasn't mad at Flint. She explained it as a rule she'd learned back under Muggle care, an offbeat ethic given out to kids who fought too much. Severus recognized the 'ethic' as behavioral conditioning to hold no grudges, which didn't fit her blood but seemed a useful trait. 

There was a lot that needed to be explained about her lack of reaction to the curses, as well as a little bit of research on her unique scar. Snape knew that the star was Wormtail's work, but just how many effects the scar had left her with had become his quest between classes to figure out. Reasoning that maybe she had merely dodged Flint's curses after all, he shot her with a minor one she didn't even seem to feel as she left his class with some other Gryffindors.

"Julie, did you see that?"

"Professor Snape!"

"What is it?" Julie looked in surprise at the Weasley boys. Tim was checking the back of her robes for some reason and Tom had her father at wandpoint.

"He just shot you!"

"Did you really, 'Fessor? Was I bad?" Julie grinned a little cheekily at Severus, who was suddenly grinning broadly with his arms crossed there. 

"You didn't feel that?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, that's very good."

"You just cursed your own daughter- -sir," Tom observed in disbelief as the professor smiled and looked at Julie's back for marks again. The Gryffindor had his wand up as if he was holding off an enemy. Snape motioned for him to put it back down again.

"It's quite alright, Weasley, just a test."

"Yeah, we just needed to see if it worked on me, Tom, you can put the wand down, now."

"How do you keep the Weasleys straight, Starcatcher? It seems to me that they're their fathers' little clones, except the older pair had better marks and Beater skills." 

The two boys went a little red at their teacher's insult, but Julie recognized the bait had just been meant for her. With an artless little smile she turned to her father and explained it thus:

"Oh, no, Professor, see; Tom's the one who makes the Slytherin Chasers look bad, and Tim's the one who makes their Keeper look a total ass. There's a very big difference in their playing style."

"Oh, so that's it. I thought that Tim was the one who couldn't use a bat without knocking the Quaffle out and Tom was the one who couldn't fly past the half-pitch mark. My mistake."

"Yeah, you must be thinking of Durden and Blodgett there. Poor Slyth'rins can't fly 'thout a balance stick."

"Or maybe it was those Gryffindor pixy boys- -you know, the ones you seem to use for Chasers when a rock would suit."

"Speaking of rocks, I've never seen flying like Blodgett's there... Oh, wait, yes I have. That time a dragon gave birth in midair was close."

"At least Blodgett doesn't fall from a Keeper's foul. Bloody Scottish git-"

"Don't even push it, _sir_." Julie glared angrily. Snape gave her an evil little smile at this and continued: 

"Oh, dear, I'd forgotten that you've got the hots for your captain, girl. Quite a peculiar sort of player to fancy, there, can't even get through a game without breaking his or someone else's arm."

The poor Weasley boys, who had been watching the fight very nervously, suddenly noticed that Julie was brilliant red. She liked Donaghan? Now this was some festive news. Meanwhile, Julie was fighting her father still.

"I swear, Professor, if you don't lay off on McPherson, I'll-"

"You will do _what,_ Miss Starcatcher?" Snape gave her his best 'I'm-a-teacher, you're-a-student, ha-ha' grin, which was something like a raven trying to smile at you. Julie fumbled for a second, but came up brightly.

"I'll...tell Professor McGonagall you don't think we'll win our next match." 

Severus looked in fury at his daughter's smile. His mouth went into the thinnest of thin lines and stayed that way.

"One word to Minerva McGonagall and you'll have detention until you can vote, girl!"

Julie innocently asked him a question then:

"Speaking of, when _do_ wizards get to vote?" 

"Eighteen just like Muggles, dear. _-If you think_ that you can threaten your teachers, you are _sadly_ and _direly- _-oh, hi, m'love." 

Professor Granger had just entered in the midst of this. The Weasley boys tried not to giggle as they saw the look she gave Julie and Professor Snape.

"What's going on here, Sev?"

Their professor looked nervous and sheepish then.

"Er- -Julie and I were just talking Quidditch, dear. Nothing major, just some insults about flying skill."

"But what's this I hear about you threatening teachers, Julie? You aren't-"

"She's just defending the Scot with McGonagall," Snape explained, causing Hermione to smile at both of them.

"I've got a class to get to, do I have detention, sir?"

"No, Starcatcher, you're fine. Go on, now," her mother said, as the Weasleys gave her brilliant grins identically. The instant the three students had left their sight, she turned to Severus with eyebrow raised quite quizzically. "And why did she _need_ to defend the Scot before the Weasley boys?"

"I- -er- -um, sorry?"

"Close. You have to stop tormenting students, dear. Sooner or later you are going to offend the wrong girl at the wrong time of the month and then I'll have to turn you back into a person."

"Julie can't Transfigure people yet- -can she?"

"According to the Headmistress, she's becoming adept at it. Seems she's inherited _somebody's_ interest in Animagic."

"Damn that Pot- ...drat your friend anyway. She was only supposed to learn flying from him and now she's always hanging out with he and Hagrid. You'd think he was really her uncle, then."

"Well, he sort of is, in the strictly honorary sense of the term. Why are you blaming Harry for her studying?"

"Because he's- -oh. That's your fault." She smiled at him. "It's just that Harry's told her about the Animagi back in my school days, seems like she fancies the idea of repeating it. I'm constantly worried I'll find her with horns one day."

"Horns?"

"Well, one big one, like unicorns. I've also pictured rabbit ears and kitten fur, all nasty thoughts."

"I think Julie'd be more of a raven type. She does like to fly more than I do."

"And a rabbit wouldn't fit her since she fixed her teeth. Sometimes I think she was cuter before she did." He sighed and Hermione patted him.

"She looks older, dear, and that makes parents sad, I'm told." For a moment he looked at her as if she didn't feel the same. "I think it's her outgrowing my old robes that made me notice our little girl's growing up."

"She outgrew them?"

"Just my fifth-year set, much too tall. If she gets to be your height, I will be ticked."

"Oh, come on, dear, you aren't that short, just...not that tall. I think you're the perfect height, if that thought helps."

"The perfect height for you to pick up too much."

"If you insist, darling."

Severus picked Hermione up.

"Oh, put me down, what will the students say?"

"This is my free class or don't you remember that?"

"I remember full well, Professor Snape!"

"It's yours as well, isn't it, Professor Granger?"

"You know my schedule, don't you, dear?"

"Oh, that's right, you have a class in just five minutes. Damn."

"I'll give them study hall if you need my help, Sev."

"You will not! That's the most ridiculous...giving kids study hall...and you never give enough homework!"

"It's to balance when you give them way too much."

"How do you expect children to learn if they don't have to work for it?"

"How do you expect them to learn if they're scared of their teacher?"

"They're not scared of me!"

"Julie's not. Kenny is."

"Little Longbottom? Never!"

"He's just as terrified as Neville was for seven years. I'm not asking you to change your teaching methods, but tone it down a little with the first-year kids. Please, Severus."

"Neville was scared of me?"

"Petrified."

"I never knew that. He's fine with me now,though,-right?

"Yes, but a great deal of that comes from what I've been telling him."

__

"Like what?"

"That you aren't that awful, Sev."

"Isn't it obvious? You married me, I'm not that bad."

"No, not really, even if you snore and give the puppies treats too much."

"I do _not_ snore and they need treats to grow properly. You talk in your sleep and you're strange when drunk."

"How many times have I _been_ drunk, Sev?"

"Last year at the faculty Halloween party."

"I couldn't help that! Bloody Malfoy gave me absinthe twice."

"So that explains why the Davies keep sending it."

"Speaking of our daughter's other uncle, is he coming up?"

"For Halloween? Of course, and staying here 'til Christmas break. Problems with the Ministry Committee on Auror Weapons, I think, said he'd need to be up here at least three months. I don't blame them for authorizing wand guards, but your Weasley's proposal on portable holes is a little much."

"Portable holes?"

"I think they use them to keep big things in. Like the hippogriff colt that Black thinks our daughter'd like."

"Hagrid said he'd keep him stabled out by his house, Sev."

"It's just too stereotypical to actually let your daughter have a pony, dear."

"She hasn't asked for one."

"Because she hasn't heard of them!"

"Yes, she has, I told her about third year twice."

"She _would_ like that story."

"Beats some other things I'm sure she's wondering about." Hermione gave Severus a look that implied volumes of accounts of the dungeon. "I wouldn't want to give Julie ideas, would I?"

"Oh, stop that, or I'll kiss you 'til you're late for class."

**************************************

"I _hate_ it when Dad rags on Donaghan!" Julie yelled, furiously putting her textbooks down. The Weasley boys gave her identical curious looks from both her right and her left simultaneously. "What?"

"Julie, do you really-"

"-have the hots for Donaghan?"

"Because if you do-"

"-we think that he likes you, too."

"So, do you, then?"

Julie looked very sheepish and sank into a library chair. Madam Pince wasn't around so she sighed and said:

"I've been sort of dating him since after the Quidditch game."

"Awww!" Tim thought this was cute and smiled cheekily. "That's so sweet!"

"And you didn't tell us?" Tom asked, grinning.

"As I recall it, I was a little busy getting pounded and regrowing bones."

"We must have a drink to celebrate!" Tim suggested, giving his cousin a sly wink as he pulled out some butterbeer.

"We can't have a drink in the library," Julie protested.

"She's right, we'd better go back to the Common Room." Tom was fully aware of the prank that Tim was planning for their Seeker friend's butterbeer. Julie, however, was too disbelieving that they weren't teasing her to notice they'd spiked her cup royally. Just as Tim had poured three glasses in the vacated Common Room, Donaghan came in and said hello.

"Donaghan!" the two Weasleys chorused, producing another spiked glass from Tim's bookbag and pouring him a butterbeer. 

"Come on, sit down!"

"Alright, but we can't stay long, there's practice soon."

"He's right, guys, let's wait on the butterbeer." Julie was just about to unpour the glasses with her wand but Tom stopped her and she gave him a look. "What's up with you?"

"It's just your father's class, you can't get a drink at all."

"Even if you're dying," Tim added expansively. Donaghan defended Julie's parents thus:

"Professor Granger lets you get a drink in class, but only if you're sure that you won't mix things up. Once I had a cup of butterbeer and another of a Freezing Potion," as Donaghan talked, he was drinking the butterbeer. "I wound up with hypothermia right before a Transfiguration test."

"That's pretty bad, but what about the time your dad made you test the Polyjuice Potion in his class, Julie?"

"She had forgotten her homework-"

"-to bring one hair of another person to try it with."

"So I just pulled a light one out of the hairbrush that Mom gave me and I wound up looking like her until study hall."

"Her dad took off five points from Gryffindor-" 

"for having her eyes not change-"

"-their eyes are the same, y'know."

"I know," Donaghan observed smiling secretively, as he and Julie swallowed off the last drops of butterbeer. She returned his look and the cousins noticed they were looking just about to-

"What was in this, guys? I feel as if you'd-" Julie suddenly realized they'd spiked it with something bad. "You didn't use that Lust Potion we found in the Restricted book?"

"No." they chorused, giggling.

"You might say that it's-"

"-worse, though,"

"you really might."

"Guys," Donaghan said threateningly. They burst into laughter and Julie sighed.

"I hate it when they play these pranks on me."


	10. The Terpsichora Potion

A/N: About what the Weasley boys did to the butterbeer...it was an idea I thought might get ugly fast. I apologize in advance for what happens here, but it's the Way Things Must Be…sorry to all who like Donaghan. Thanks to all who review this and don't hate me. Here you go.  
  
Chapter Ten: The Terpsichora Potion  
  
"What did you put in this butterbeer?" Donaghan demanded of the Weasley boys.  
  
"Just a potion we got from our dads again."  
  
"What does it do and am I going to be ticked off?" Julie looked more despondent than angry about the spiked glasses.  
  
"Calm down, Julie, it only lasts twenty-four hours or so."  
  
"And it only creates what we call the McGregor Effect."  
  
"McGregor as in that wizard who grew toenails over six feet long?" Julie asked in horror, pulling off her shoes.  
  
"No, McGregor as in that Muggle movie you had us watch."  
  
"You don't mean Fight Club?"  
  
"No, Moulin Rouge."  
  
"You're going to sing."  
  
Donaghan looked like he could kill them there.  
  
"I'm cancellin' practice. You're off the team."  
  
"But Captain!"  
  
"No buts! These pranks 'ave gotten completely out o' control."  
  
"Donaghan, maybe this isn't quite all that bad."  
  
"I'm sick of their playin' tricks, Julie-girl. It's only for a week, an' we've got na games."  
  
"Still, taking them off the team is way too harsh. I'm sure they didn't mean it meanly, just as harmless fun."  
  
"Yeah, Captain,"  
  
"We meant it as a joke on you."  
  
"You two, that is," Tim chipped in with a smile.  
  
"Oh, y'know that we're datin', then, do y'na?" The Captain gave the Seeker a sheepish grin.  
  
"My father gave the game away after our last class."  
  
"Aw, tha's alrigh'. You two are only on probation, but it's for a week."  
  
"Yes, Captain," they chorused respectfully.  
  
"Julie-girl, since I've cancelled practice, y'fancy a walk?"  
  
"Sure. I don't want them to see us if we do start singing."  
  
"My feelin's exac'ly." They left the room.  
  
"You don't really think we'll start singing, do you, Donaghan?"  
  
"Naw, they're jus' yankin' our chains to see what we'll do."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"The Astronomy tower, I jus' assumed."  
  
"I've never been there."  
  
"It's quite lovely, you can see sunsets an' lots o' stars. There's a great view on the whole o' the Hogwarts grounds an' I though' y' migh' like it, so I asked Professor Cassio if I could have it all ter myself t'night."  
  
"Then you were planning to cancel practice anyway?"  
  
"Well, not exac'ly, I kinda thought we could just fly up there on broomsticks after practice's done. If'n y'd rather, we could jump out this window here."  
  
"I think that that would be a lot of fun. Accio Firebolt!" Julie called. Her faithful broomstick appeared a moment later next to Donaghan's.  
  
"Did yeh do that without your wand, Julie?" Donaghan asked her suspiciously.  
  
"No, I was touching it, I didn't point it over there."  
  
"Tha's kind of scary, y'kna that?"  
  
"Isn't that how wands work?"  
  
"No, Julie. Mos' people have to point them at somethin' ter make it work, not just touch the handle and say 'Accio' an' there it is."  
  
"Maybe my broomstick just likes me, then." Donaghan smiled as she patted it. "Good broom."  
  
"Y'kna somethin', Julie? Y're silly sometimes."  
  
"Yes, when I'm not being sarcastic and nasty-like."  
  
"You're cynical and beautiful, you always make a scene-"  
  
"You aren't!"  
  
"You're monochrome delirious, you're nothing that you seem."  
  
"Don't!"  
  
"I'm drowning in your dizzy noise, I want to feel you scream,"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Everything you are, falls from the sky like a star, everything you are, whatever-ever you are."  
  
Julie gave up and tried not to pay attention, but Donaghan was singing and he sounded great. It was a little bit humiliating to be the object of it, so she responded in kind with the next stanza. By the time they stopped singing at one another they had flown up onto the tower and landed there.  
  
"I can' believe we actu'lly did that na'."  
  
"I am so going to turn those cousins' hair dark blue."  
  
"No, flamin' 'lectric pink for Tom an' make Tim's blue. They won' match an' that'll tick 'em off worse anyway."  
  
************************  
  
"Donaghan," Julie asked a few minutes later, "do you think this can really work?"  
  
"What can work?"  
  
"Us seeing each other. I mean, you just cancelled practice and that's not like you. It's also probably a little odd to date a fifth-year in seventh- year."  
  
"Not that odd. An' y're the only girl who plays Quidditch for Gryffindor."  
  
Julie gave Donaghan a look sufficient to make it clear that she did not find that to be a good remark.  
  
"That, an' y'are one of the funniest people I've ever known, plus y're pretty, an'- I'm losin' points, aren't I?"  
  
"Sort of, yeah." Julie ran her fingers through her grown-out bangs and let them fall, unconsciously reminding Donaghan of her father and why this could never work. "See, I like you because you're a good Chaser and you're funny and you're handsome, too, but... what I'm saying is, is that all we really are? I mean, I like it, but..."  
  
"Y'aren't sure we feel more than friends would, eh?"  
  
"Yeah. I just don't think that...there's no chemistry, y'know, it's all just friendly type."  
  
"I felt the same way, but I didn't think tha' you did, Jule."  
  
"So we should just be friends?"  
  
"I think tha'd be a good idea. I wanted to tell you I didn't quite feel correct, but I didn't want to change things if y'did, y'kna?"  
  
"That was my take on things."  
  
Julie smiled quietly and leaned a bit. "Still, it was nice to have you kissing me when I was hurt."  
  
"An' it was good to kna' my broken arm scared y' like it were y're own."  
  
"I'd still feel that way, even if we are just friends."  
  
"I'd still kiss y' when y're hurt, if'n y'd like me to."  
  
"So- friends?" They shook on it.  
  
"Friends, Seeker." That was all. They stopped dating then.  
  
**************************  
  
"Professor?" Donaghan asked, knocking on the open door quietly. Severus looked up from his desk at the Scottish boy.  
  
"If you're asking to marry my daughter I will kill you dead right where you stand, Chaser."  
  
"No, sir, I just wondered when the N.E.W.T.s would be."  
  
"May twenty-seventh like every year. Is there a reason why you look as though your owl's died?"  
  
Donaghan was silent and for an instant Severus was scared that he'd guessed correctly. Instead Donaghan cleared his throat and told him quite calmly:  
  
"Julie and I are just friends now, sir, so you know."  
  
"Has she upset you, have you left her, you were fine today!"  
  
"We were talking and she thinks she likes me as a friend. I agreed with her, there wasn't a fight or anything."  
  
"Then why do you look like you're going to cry? Answer me, McPhersen!"  
  
"I love her!" Donaghan shouted, then paused and looked frightened –this was her dad. "I mean like, I do like her."  
  
"And you lied because she doesn't want to date you now?"  
  
"I would rather lie than lose her completely, sir."  
  
"Does she have any idea that you feel this way?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't think so."  
  
"She broke it off?"  
  
"Yes, sir, but don't tell her I told you this. Please, Professor, I can just be her friend for now."  
  
"I can't believe Julie would do that to you."  
  
"She doesn't know I lied, sir, I'm sure she can't."  
  
"Alright. I won't tell her you like her, so you stay her friend. If you want her back that's your problem; I won't tell her."  
  
"Thanks, Professor. I don't think I'll get her back."  
  
Severus was confused by the encounter with the Gryffindor. The boy thought he loved his daughter, that was plain enough, but had lied rather than hold too tight and lose her thus. Julie was also not interested in dating him. Was it because of the words with the Weasley boys? Snape was starting to regret that he'd teased her so. He also knew he had to talk to Hermione. How many Gryffindors had lied rather than hold her too tight, he wondered. Was this just an oblivious tendency to break hearts very gently that his daughter had? Or did she really not want to date Donghan?  
  
He was answered when he saw his wife at dinnertime.  
  
"I understand that Julie's just friends now with Donaghan?"  
  
"Yeah, she didn't think they had any chemistry."  
  
"You knew she would break it off?"  
  
"Of course I did."  
  
"I saw that Chaser and he's heartbroken."  
  
"Is he- -what?"  
  
"He seems to have agreed with her so as not to lose her friendship. He also thinks he loves her."  
  
"Oh, dear, I was afraid of that." Hermione sighed and poured them each a glass of pumpkin juice. "Julie isn't challenged by a boyfriend like Donaghan and she's gotten bored just like I did with Viktor Krum. And aside from how he feels, she handled things beautifully."  
  
"He just seemed so despondent and sad tonight."  
  
"And well he should be, he's lost her forever now or so he thinks and there's no way to get her back without making her realize he lied to her. He also knows that she doesn't feel the way he does and unrequited love's always a terrible fix."  
  
"Well I know, dear. So we should just let this by?"  
  
"I think it'd be best, considering how she is. Right now she's still getting used to even having us, so we don't want her thinking she can't trust us to keep out of her personal life."  
  
"I reserve the right to be furious if she does what you did with your friend Ron."  
  
"What'd I ever- -oh, that. I don't think she will. Ron's not really the type for us studious girls."  
  
"He's not really the type for any female I've met yet."  
  
"Oh, I don't know, his girlfriend seems to find him alright, I've heard."  
  
"Who is she?"  
  
"He won't say. I think it might be someone we've known for years."  
  
"Speaking of, Malfoy owled me to say he'd be here- -right now." The Slytherin was walking through the Great Hall toward their table. "Can he eat with us?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Hello, Severus, Hermione, how're you both?"  
  
"Great, Draco, come sit with us." Severus grinned and Hermione jokingly forced a smile.  
  
"Thanks, but I've already eaten, guys. I heard this terrible rumor that a Gryffindor won the Seeker's Medal last month. Can this yarn be true?" Malfoy was grinning even as he drawled sardonically.  
  
"Yes, your broomstick paid off, Malfoy, very well." Hermione's smile became genuine as she remembered that he'd found Julie her Firebolt XP-550 broom. The blond man grinned back and they started to talk Quidditch.  
  
"So the half-Gryffindor flies like her father, eh?"  
  
"Mercifully, yes, or she'd have met a violent death while she scored a goal with the Quaffle."  
  
"I heard she got ahold of it and knocked them one," Malfoy said airily. "It's always impressive when a Seeker gets an after-foul."  
  
"Apparently that very rarely happens to Slytherin."  
  
"Your friend Potter only did it twice his whole career."  
  
"He's been training our Julie in Seeker things…and although what I know about Quidditch you could fit in a matchbook, it seems to have paid off quite well with her."  
  
"If you like I could teach her to really foul."  
  
"She did quite well knocking our Keeper half off his broom," Severus noted to Draco quite dryly. "It doesn't seem to be fouls that she has a problem with."  
  
"Oh, yes, and I also heard about the mess with Marcus Flint's boy –Matius, was it? Did you beat him senseless or just boot him out?"  
  
"One month detention and he had to apologize."  
  
"Sev! You're going soft now you've got a kid."  
  
"He serves detention with Hagrid and Harry, now."  
  
"I stand corrected, you've grown crueler but in laziness."  
  
"How is Paris with the new Auror Office now?" Hermione asked Draco politely.  
  
"It would be lovely if not for the French people. Bloody Paris has loads of them, can't think why."  
  
"I haven't been there since the summer before third year. It must be nice in the autumn and winter too."  
  
"Aside from work, I like Paris quite well, really. The local alcohols and food are just splendid there." Malfoy said this with a grin recalling absinthe and escargot. Hermione sighed and smiled back now that he was a friend of sorts.  
  
"I hope you don't teach Julie bad habits, too."  
  
"Yes, that Harry's got her studying half the day."  
  
"Hello? Severus? Her mum there?" Draco pointed out, grinning at his now grown ex-enemy. "How are you going to stand it when she starts dating Bulgarians and straightening her hair?"  
  
"She's already dispensed with her first 'Bulgarian', thanks, Draco. And the attempt last week to straighten her hair was a disaster beyond your imagining."  
  
"Wand or potion?"  
  
"Both."  
  
"Neither worked?"  
  
"Even worse," Hermione explained. "She looked exactly like Severus except for her eyes and decided she needed the bushyness."  
  
"That and the potion did make my head itch like a fury, there." Julie had come up behind them with a piece of paper. "I need you to sign this form I would have got in second year –lets me go off to Hogsmeade with Tom and Tim."  
  
"You do anyway."  
  
"But it still needs to be on the record here."  
  
Severus pulled out a quill and signed the form in a sweeping, flourish- filled handwriting. Julie took a look at it and her eyebrows went up quite impressedly.  
  
"Elegant much?"  
  
Her mother signed her name with more normal writing, and Julie signed her own in an owl scratch.  
  
"Crimeny, Starcatcher, your handwriting's worse than my friend Goyle's." Malfoy looked at the form with a joking sneer. Julie sighed, flipped the form over, switched the pen to her left hand and forged her parents' signatures-exactly.  
  
"Well, what's the point in having us sign it then?"  
  
"I knew Professor McGonagall'd check on it. I showed her today I could forge her name and she wasn't amused in the slightest."  
  
Malfoy looked at Julie's hands in amazement then.  
  
"You did that left-handed. Are you ambidextrous?"  
  
"Rather, though my left is good for forging 'cause my right hand goes too quickly."  
  
"An ambidextrous catcher for the Gryffindors, Severus, you have my condolences."  
  
Hermione and Julie cracked up at that. The Snapes wound up laughing with Malfoy the whole evening, until it was close to ten and Severus showed Malfoy to his room in the dungeons then. Julie went with her mother to Gryffindor Tower, where she fed her ferret and white mice and talked with her. A lot of it was about Donaghan, then a little more about the old Muggle orphanages, and some of it was about the Muggle guys she'd fancied before she came to Hogwarts and became a witch. Julie wasn't quite as innocent as everybody'd suspected in the romantic sense, having dated three or four people not very seriously since she turned fifteen, still she most she had ever done was kissing and a little snuggling until she got bored or left. None of them had ever been more than her friends, really, as the physical attractions all died out fairly quickly when she realized that they weren't that hard to keep enthralled or interested. Donaghan was cute, true, but he realy wasn't treating her the way she wanted to be handled, and a little of that was her father's teaching at the same school and a little was her being 'one of the guys' on the Quidditch team. Hermione realized that Julie had no idea that he liked her the way he did.  
  
She did not realize, however, that there was one guy at Hogwarts who did spark her interest, a certain odd Slytherin who wasn't above cursing a girl in fights.  
  
A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this up, I should have the next one by tomorrow or Tuesday. –J. McN. 


	11. A Long Talk

A/N: This does not fit the pattern of previous chapters, but it's vital to the plot and what this story means. (Yes, I have a meaning. Don't know how it got here, but I have one now.) There isn't that much description in the first part, it's just dialogue, but the second speaker's Julie and there's only two people there. You'll figure out whom she's talking to rather fast. Here you go.  
  
Chapter Eleven: A Long Talk and a Night of Quite Odd Dreams  
  
"Why are you so keen on knowing this?"  
  
"It happened before I was born and it seems that I'm somehow snarled up in all of it. So I want to know what you can tell me, please."  
  
"There's not a lot I'm sure you want to know."  
  
There was a tense pause and a belligerent reply:  
  
"Try me."  
  
"He was obsessed with controlling the entire world. There were people under him who all had a special mark-"  
  
"I know about that."  
  
"And his followers were made to view him in a godlike sense. There was plenty of room for advancement, provided you had the ambition and your blood was what he considered 'pure.'"  
  
"I've heard of that, too. I need specifics."  
  
"Well, his symbol was used in every aspect of his propaganda."  
  
"I've seen it."  
  
"He also wanted to kill or enslave all the people with certain racial background. I heard of plans he made for the systematic murder of thousands...millions."  
  
"Was he crazy or drunk on his own power?"  
  
"Both, very; a megalomaniacal psychopath. He employed other such psychopaths to do his bidding, one for propaganda, one for espionage, one for the killing plans-"  
  
"This is sounding very dire from your point of view."  
  
"It should, Julie! He planned to eliminate part of the human race!"  
  
"It's also familiar. D'you know Voldemort's a plagiarist?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"A Muggle did that, Malfoy, ever heard of Adolf Hitler?"  
  
"Hermione?" Malfoy asked quietly, knocking on the Potions room door. Since Severus had switched subjects, Defense Against The Dark Arts was held in 'his' dungeon, whilst Hermione favored a bright airy room on the third floor with a skylight and huge windows. At nighttime there were stars and lots of moonlight, thus suiting it perfectly to evening entertaining. Sure enough, the brown-haired professor was hard at work labeling vials of something blue. She looked up and saw his face drawn and pale with shock. Immediately she put down the vials and moved to the front table of the room.  
  
"What is it, Draco, you look as though you'd just seen a boggart there," she observed, motioning him to sit down and drawing out a chair with her wand. "I thought you and Julie were just talking…"  
  
"We were, but then she made me tell her about You-Know-Who and…is it true that a Muggle once did what he planned to with all Muggles?"  
  
"Genocide, you mean? Yes, it's happened several times in history- -which were you thinking of?"  
  
"Oh, you mean like in the Dark Ages. Julie mentioned one guy, Adolf Hitler,"  
  
"That was the nineteen-forties, actually, Hitler's Nazi Party and the Holocaust. When you hear old Muggles talking about 'the war,' that's who they were fighting. Had you honestly never heard of this?"  
  
"No…nineteen-forty- -that was when You-Know-Who was at school!"  
  
"I imagine he probably admired the Nazis' efficiency. There were over six million Jewish people murdered in concentration camps, not to mention Gypsies, Poles, homosexuals, clergy; pretty much everyone who wasn't a tall blond-haired Aryan."  
  
"So this Hitler looked like me?" Draco asked in a low voice.  
  
"No, actually, he was dark-haired and short. Didn't look Aryan in the slightest. He had this idea about a 'master race' of Germanic people taking over the world, with people like the Poles and Eastern Slavs as 'inferior beings' and servants, whilst people like the Jews had to be murdered."  
  
"Just like the pure-bloods would rule with muggle-borns as servants, and all Muggles had to be killed off?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Why didn't I ever hear about this?"  
  
"I don't know, maybe because Voldemort was stealing Muggle methods and didn't want people like your father to realize he was nothing but a plagiarist?"  
  
"That's what Julie called him, too, when I told her about some of the plans he had to kill all the non-magic people." The blond Slytherin looked more depressed than Hermione had seen him in a long time. "And my father was the man he put in charge of it."  
  
"Draco, you can't beat yourself up about your father's being a Death Eater…your mother more than made up for it spying for Dumbledore and so did you when you found out where Wormtail had taken me. Have I ever thanked you for that?"  
  
Malfoy smiled weakly and answered her:  
  
"Several times, actually, every time I look sad in your presence."  
  
"Good, because I'll thank you again. You aren't allowed to be sad in my presence."  
  
"Are you the same Mudblood Granger I cursed the front teeth of in Potions class?" Malfoy was grinning now, knowing that he had finally succeeded in winning her friendship. -did her daughter have something to do with that?- "I don't want you getting all maternal and stuff just 'cause you married my mentor, now."  
  
"Alright, Draco, we'll stay on the old footing of tolerance. But do me a favor and don't let the Death Eater thing mess you up. You're so damn pathetic-looking when you aren't being caustic and Slytherinish."  
  
"I don't think that's even a word, Professor Gingersnap."  
  
"I said it, didn't I? Now it is. And don't call me Gingersnap, ferret-boy."  
  
"Yep, it's still you, alright." He gave the professor-ex-classmate a grin as he left; off to the Muggle Studies section of the library. When he got there he found Julie with a stack of books. She was perched on one of the wooden chairs, elbows on the table as she randomly flipped pages, studying. With the fingers of her left hand she absently twirled a little of her dark- bushy mixed-house hair, unconsciously imitating one of her mother's more irritating habits from back in school. Except when Julie did it, Malfoy found himself finding the habit endearing and sweet, a sharp contrast to the combination of sarcastic and know-it-all that his mentor's daughter had proved to be from the start of his knowing her. She looked a little like her mother in posture there, but more like her father in facial expression as she read. Malfoy pulled a chair out and joined her at the table. She pulled a book off the stack and slid it straight to him.  
  
"That's got what you're looking for, page twenty-five."  
  
It was with a peculiar smile that Malfoy realized she had seen him come in and been expecting it.  
  
Obediently, he thanked her and turned to page twenty-five. It was a chapter on the Muggle Holocaust, indeed, exactly what he had wanted to learn about. What was up with the girl that she thought of that? She was definitely her parents' daughter, he decided, resisting the temptation to look at her once again.  
  
It didn't work and Malfoy found himself shocked at her Muggle clothes, plainly visible under her Hogwarts robe. Not that Muggle clothes were shocking, he wore them himself fairly often now, but the way that they fit her was ludicrous! Julie had on some bluejeans that looked as though they'd been taken apart and then sewn on tight, until the seams reached her knee and flared violently. And her shirt- -well, it didn't look like any shirt he'd seen before. It was made out of patches of cotton cloth, squares about the size of his hand in three different colors and patterns, sewn symmetrically into a shirt like a man's with a collar, and tied at the bottom like most girls did. The white patches were set almost intentionally over her chest, and even with the robe on it was plain that she was a very well built female even for her age. Julie also had her mother's liking for outrageously unbuttoned collars above lapels, and enough bare neck for two vampires was visible. She didn't dress like that for class, he hoped. Her dad probably took points off of houses for checking his daughter out, and had he been there, Malfoy knew he'd have lost a few. He abruptly looked down at the textbook again, quickly scanning the page and then turning it, aware that Julie might notice he'd read too slowly to not have been distracted. She said nothing, but turned a page quietly. He wondered then what she was reading about.  
  
Julie had a book about Muggle music open in front of her, but she was no more reading it than Malfoy had been reading his for the past two minutes. Damn it, did he have to wear those black satin shirts around her again? And a black leather wizard's cloak, was he trying to give her brain damage from hormones here? Her parents' friend had grown up to just about the height of her 'Uncle Harry,' six-two at the most but still very tall, at least to a girl who was five-seven last month and slowing down. He also couldn't help but remind her of James Marsters now that she'd thought of it, only a little less frightening with those gray-blue eyes. The orphanage cat had eyes that color, she remembered. Only Malfoy's were searching and hopeful instead of crazed and sharp from catching mice and rats. He looked as if his entire life had been one huge lie, forcing him to rewrite his background from something wrong. She knew that the lost look was justified, and sometimes she wanted to comfort him. But he also tended to be as sardonic and hardened as her dad, a Slytherin hallmark and way to hide real feelings. It was only when he was reading or talking of something serious that he let his defenses down and she could see his past in those lovely eyes. 'I am such a stereotypical git,' she thought, quickly going back to the page again. 'He's my mum's age, why do I think his eyes are cute?'  
  
'Because they are,' a nasty little thought prodded. Damn her hormones anyway. If it wouldn't prevent her from growing right, she would ask her mother to counteract all this nonsense with some potion. There had to be a cure for a dirty mind. Maybe she would ask Madam Pomfrey- -no, definitely not her, unless she felt like missing two classes as the nurse checked all fifty-six bones in her regrown hands. Somehow Julie felt Madam Pomfrey was proud of them, especially since she had caught the Snitch twice with the new bones, and letting the nurse-witch admire her handiwork (inadvertent pun, damn hormones!) simply took too long when she had classes. And she couldn't very well go up to her mother and say 'Mummy, that Slytherin you hated in school is giving me furious hot pants, have you got a potion to knock that out?' The mere thought of her mother's reaction to such a remark caused an inadvertent burst of laughter as she was supposed to be studying a boring text. Horror of horrors, Malfoy leaned over:  
  
"Something humorous in yours, then?" It was clear that his own book was hard to stand. Julie tried her best to look Slytherinish and pointed out a paragraph.  
  
"This book says the Moody Blues wrote music 'of a hippie type.' They practically invented the genre of post-Berry intricate psyche-rock!"  
  
Malfoy gave her a blank stare. She explained:  
  
"'Of a hippie type's like saying Hagrid wears clothes of a larger type. It's such a ridiculous understatement as to become totally inaccurate connotively."  
  
"So you've gotten all bent over Muggle songs?"  
  
"Basically," she confessed, slightly red. "Maybe you shouldn't read that one so close to bed. Did you take Muggle Studies back in school here?"  
  
"Nope. What I know about their music's ridiculous."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"It's so little, just 'loud' and 'guitars with picks.' Wizard bands play their guitars with wands y'know, like that one fellow Tremlett in the Weird Sisters."  
  
"I've heard their one album, it's Mum's, I think."  
  
"Most likely she got it from Weasley –Ron, she's a Muggle-born and still likes their classic rock."  
  
"So do I, actually, since I was very small."  
  
"Really? Well, tell me about intricate psyche-rock, because I've got no idea why that pissed you off."  
  
That was what the kids in most of Julie's old orphanages would term to be a fatal mistake, as Starcatcher knew the Moodies and the Beatles like her parents knew potions or Harry knew brooms. Fortunately, however, Malfoy found her description of the classic-rock elements fascinating, especially when she drew a sitar in midair for him. They had to blow the lines away before Madam Pince came and reprimanded them for smoke in her library, but still it proved an interesting topic for both of them. Malfoy also told her about wizard songs, how one of his favorite drummers half-Transfigured himself with an octopus in order to play a custom-built circle kit.  
  
They wound up in the Gryffindor Common Room, headphones on each, at three a.m. listening to each other's favorite bands. Julie had survived Terpsichora Potion almost a week ago, and the effects had finally worn off entirely. Still, it was hard not to imagine Malfoy singing the way she had with Donaghan. He was so handsome and kind right now, she could barely keep from slipping her hand in his.  
  
For his own part, Malfoy was definitely the worse for wear from Justin Hayward, tiredly realizing that Julie was beautiful. The song 'Nights in White Satin' was nearly eight minutes long, but he understood why Julie said it was the Moody Blues' greatest hit here in England and Stateside too. It was the kind of hopeless love song that could make a guy forget whose daughter this girl was. Julie had gotten one every bit as slow by the Weird Sisters, and slowly she began to slump over and fall asleep. Malfoy caught her and let her rest on his chest, moving her feet up onto the end of the couch with his wand as he put his own directly beside them there. When the wizard stereo stopped, he took her headphones off, carefully so as not to disturb her sleep. She looked so innocent asleep, that like the hair- twirling the contrast made him like her more. Unconsciously, Julie snuggled close to him, reminding Malfoy that she should be up in bed. Why, she had classes tomorrow and he had let-  
  
Classes…with her parents, the Granger-Snapes. This was Julie Snape he was holding here, what was he thinking? He picked her up and tried to get her to her room. Suddenly he stopped as the headphone cord got too tight. If he pulled it out he'd wake up the Gryffindors. His arms were busy holding the Seeker now. What a pathetic, if humorous problem, that.  
  
Malfoy managed to get the headphones off in a series of neck movements, using his shoulder for leverage to push them off. That solved, he had to look for Julie's sleeping place. It turned out to be the only fifth-year room with an album cover on the door distinguishing. A non-moving album cover, that is, as several girls had decorated their doors too. He nudged her door open with his foot and moved timidly to her bed- -should he undress her? Not completely, obviously, as the mere idea was making him a little too warm for an autumn night, but she shouldn't sleep in clothes that way, no, much too hot. Malfoy decided her robe was the easiest, undoing the single catch and taking it off swiftly. Robes were loose enough to not offend modesty with their removal, but those jeans looked too tight to be comfortable. So he very nervously unknotted her patchwork shirt, hoping the tail was long enough to do for warmth, unbuttoned her jeans and tried to get them off. Big mistake. The bloody flares were tight enough to cling to whatever was underneath, so he was forced to touch her waist and just ease them off. From there they went faster, and Julie stirred.  
  
Malfoy froze, readying an explanation should she wake. She didn't, just shivered and stretched her hands. She was cold, so he covered her legs with the comforter, noting perversely that it shouldn't hide such fine works of art. Julie wasn't built like a usual Seeker and had long, great legs, ending in feet he knew she didn't get from her father's side. Oh, why couldn't she be fifteen years older, now? If she had been he'd have joined her, but she wasn't, so…  
  
Malfoy tossed her jeans and robe on a chair and then wrote a little note for her, explaining that she'd fallen asleep and he had put her in her bed. He paused a moment before signing it 'D. Malfoy,' as she never used his first name out of age respect. He would have liked to sign it 'Draco,' but it wasn't right; he was supposed to be more of a teacher type. Why was he fancying this Gryffindor? Still, there didn't seem any harm in giving her a goodnight kiss, so this he did.  
  
He didn't know that Julie dreamed about this all night long.  
  
***********************************  
  
The next morning, the Seeker awoke slowly. She was having such a strange dream, completely out-of-character, but so interesting she had to hang onto it. Julie was used to having her hormones freaking out, but this side effect was brand-new if a little bit scandalous. Why had she dreamed about a blond guy undressing her? It was odd in that the only blond Gryffindor boy was a first-year, and the person in her dream had been very tall. Why would she be fantasizing about- -good lord, she had not gone to bed in her room! Julie tried to remember the preceding evening, sorting her thoughts like a mad sock drawer as she tried to figure out how she'd gotten there. Talking in the dungeon with Dad's old friend Malfoy…then the library, with him there, and the Common Room-  
  
She had fallen asleep in the Common Room, and beside Draco Malfoy, no less, what would the other kids say to this? Had Malfoy carried her up to bed? Ridiculous, he probably just half-led her up the steps into her room, he wouldn't just pick her up like a sack of books…or would he?  
  
As she got out of bed she noticed her socks were still on her feet. Julie never slept in socks as a sacred rule, ever since an April Fools' Day prank had glued them to her feet, so she had definitely not gone to bed herself. She was also missing her bluejeans, and with a dim realization of shock she remembered which underwear she had on. Could she have looked more like a narcoleptic closet slut? First her Muggle flares she'd resewn in seventh grade, which were too tight for most wizards to find normal, then those godforsaken panties in dark violet satin; he must have thought she was the biggest nymph in Gryffindor. What had she been thinking when she bought those things?  
  
She remembered. The color had gone with her favorite bra. Heaven spare us, she was wearing that too and it showed through her shirt quite outrageously. Not to mention her shirt was unbuttoned enough to show half of it. Well, she was certain to hear about it from her father- -would Malfoy tell him about the whole incident? Maybe not that he wound up undressing her, after all, the age gap between her father and Malfoy was the same as the gap between he and her mother- -she was doing exactly what her mum did! 'I'm such a git!' she thought angrily. 'Why did he have to be so goddamn nice last night after being such a bugger before? I can't take this nonsense!' It was while she cursed aloud under her breath that she noticed the note on her reading chair.  
  
Julie Starcatcher,  
  
I hope that in the future you learn to look at your watch when you stay up late. Your records are stacked in the Common Room, as are several of mine that I thought you might like to listen to later on. I hope you don't mind, as I borrowed the Moody Blues one with the rainbowy cover and the Beatles one where they're walking across the road. Sometime we'll have to meet up to discuss them and switch them back. It was very nice talking with you last night.  
  
-D. Malfoy  
  
P.S., Your room is really dark at night, do you know that?  
  
She promptly began swearing to herself.  
  
"Arrrgh! He's such a bloody…Slytherin! A perfectly nice, innocent note, and then that evil little postscript to screw things up! What a complete and total-" Julie realized she was giggling as she cursed. "I am such a git to even let this get to me."  
  
He was a Slytherin, true, but he was also a dish, and since when was she so Gryffindor that Slytherins weren't allowed to be thought of? After all, her mother'd wound up with a Slytherin- -no, that was a very bad thought! Terrible! Not good thought! And yet…she was also part Slytherin herself, too. Julie wasn't going to let any blond dishy guy humiliate her with that kind of two-faced note, nevermind how much older than her he was! This was war of the sort that her 'uncles' waged.  
  
So naturally, she wrote owls to them for advice. 


	12. A Word From the Owl Post

A/N: And now, an attack from the venomous plot bunnies! Here you go.  
  
Chapter Twelve: Word on the Owl Post  
  
Dear Uncle Harry,  
  
I have a bit of a problem I can't talk to Mum about, and I was wondering if you or Aunt Ginny might have a good idea or two to help me out. There's this guy I sort of fancy, totally undateable, but still a dish, only he's been a total boggart when we met last night. I sort of fell asleep in the Common Room, and so this bugger puts me in bed like a little kid, leaving a note with the most annoying postscript I have EVER heard, just to snipe at me because he's all Slytherinish. Any ideas on how to get back at him?  
  
I'm sorry if this seems intolerably childish. How are the babies, do you think they can ride on a broomstick yet? Apparently Dad thinks they'll be old enough at seven months. Is he joking? Hope to see you at the Quidditch game with Hufflepuff.  
  
-Julie S. Snape, Seeker, Gryffindor  
  
P.S., Tim and Tom suggested I should sign my name that way. Is that correct?  
  
Dear Uncle Ron,  
  
How would you recommend ticking Malfoy off?  
  
-Julie S. Snape, Seeker, Gryffindor  
  
Dear Julie,  
  
Sometimes guys can just be buggers when they like you a lot. I would suggest pretending to take the postscript literally, especially if by some chance he didn't mean to offend. I would also ask your mum what she thinks of him, as she does know a lot about guys and stuff. When I was your age she helped me ask my crush out, and look what happened. Uncle Harry says to write an equally nasty note, but I don't think he grasps the situation here.  
  
Lily and (little) Hermione are both growing like weeds and starting to stand up. And I don't think your father was joking, as Harry's already given both of them rides on his Firebolt. Good luck in the match against Hufflepuff, we will all be there in the stands with your mum and dad!  
  
Much love,  
  
-Aunt Ginny  
  
Dear Julie,  
  
Ask him to hold your pet ferret a few minutes in your mum's presence. He'll fall apart like a house-elf with pension plan. You might also make some Muggle jokes he'll never get, around friends of yours who know full well what you mean by them. And if all else fails, ask my brothers for some aid at the joke shop. They'll know what to do. My two nephews will also have good ideas. I'll be up for the match against Hufflepuff with a surprise for your parents- well, you won't tell, will you Jules? I'll tell you. It's my girlfriend, the one I want to ask to marry me. I wrote Harry and Ginny about having met her four months ago, but I don't think they know that I love her yet. You'll like her; she's worked with kids all her life. Just one more secret I need you to keep, okay? My girlfriend's a Muggle. Does that seem weird?  
  
Good luck against Hufflepuff, and save me a dance at the Halloween Ball, okay?  
  
Ferrets rule!  
  
-Uncle Ron  
  
"Perfect," Julie observed smugly, tucking the letters in her robe pocket with her quill.  
  
"What's perfect, Jules?" Tim asked.  
  
"Have the Chudley Cannons beat the Wimbourne Wasps or something?" Tom looked hopefully at her, knowing Durmstrang was more likely to start a ballet club than the Cannons were to beat the Wasps this season. Julie gave them a look of profound mischief. "I know that look! Is that note from Uncle Ron?"  
  
"Yes, the one is."  
  
"Let us see!"  
  
"Not this time, guys. It's about something personal, kind of odd. He did tell me how to get back at that guy who had pissed me off, though."  
  
"Are you ever going to tell us who the bugger is?"  
  
"Not likely. You'd tease me and beat him and everyone involved would be very sad."  
  
"I bet it's Malgryevic."  
  
"Or else that Flint ass is out for her blood again."  
  
"Neither, guys, I can handle this on my own."  
  
"Julie, you're our little coz."  
  
"Let us help."  
  
"I'm only five months younger, that does not constitute little by any means!"  
  
"You're a girl, though, so we're going to be protective."  
  
"Why don't you let us take the bugger out for you?"  
  
Julie sighed heavily and shot them each a somewhat pained expression.  
  
"I don't think you could do it without making him very ticked, and I don't want revenge so much as just returns." Suddenly both Weasley boys grew quiet.  
  
"It's Donaghan, isn't it, Starcatcher?"  
  
"That's why you guys aren't dating anymore?"  
  
"No! Donaghan and I decided to be friends. The fellow I'm mad at is a peasantish Slytherin with a complete lack of morals and civility. A wretched little snake with no sense of propriety or even- -oh, hi, Malfoy." The blond gentleman had come up behind her in the Great Hall and was holding up the book she'd found for him to read. Julie went red as the Weasleys' hair. "Was the book alright?"  
  
"Very good. I've been thinking about a trip to the Muggle library in London, though, try to get things from a non-wizarding point of view. Do you know what street it's on?"  
  
"It? There are over seventeen libraries in the West Side alone."  
  
"Do you know where there's a good one, though?"  
  
"Several, which part of London are you thinking in?"  
  
"Y'see, I've only been in the wizard parts. I was sort of wondering if you'd like to go with me."  
  
"Okay…if my parents say I can."  
  
"Can you Apparate yet?"  
  
"Don't know what it is."  
  
"Oh. We'll fly, then, I guess. I'll go ask your dad and mum right now, then." He vanished toward the teachers' table, leaving Tim and Tom in a state of absolute gobsmackedness. Julie gave them sheepish looks and they burst into laughter.  
  
"Did that just happen?"  
  
"You're going to Muggle London with the new Charms professor? You are just like your mum with a vengeance, Jule!"  
  
"I am not! And he's only my father's friend- -what d'you mean he's the new Charms professor?"  
  
"Professor Flitwick's retiring at Christmastime. Didn't you hear the announcement McGonagall made?"  
  
"No! When was that?"  
  
"Two days ago. Where were you?"  
  
"I must have been…library." The Weasleys shrugged and went back to their plates of roast beef, even as Julie was blushing fiercely from the memory of whom she had been there with.  
  
"Figures you skipped dinner the past two days."  
  
"We had the best kippers the other night," Tom observed.  
  
"Kippers? I skipped it on purpose. Call me crazy, but I'm more the chips with vinegar fish-eater."  
  
"Right on, sister," Mack agreed, sitting down across from them, minutes late. "What did Professor Pureblood want with Starcatcher?"  
  
"He asked her out," Tom announced.  
  
"Fancies her, I reckon, hot-blood snake."  
  
"You guys!" Julie was not pleased with the conversation or her two friends. Mack just grinned and gave her a jesting look.  
  
"I don't blame the git, she looks like a winning goal." Face flaming, Julie stood up in rage and disgust with him. "See what I mean, Weasleys, dig that chest. And those frisky little Muggle jeans-"  
  
"You shut up," Donaghan ordered, wand level with MacAndrew's tender neck. He had swept up like a wrathful bird to defend Julie from the filthy mouth of their friend Mack, who nodded and looked as if he had swallowed a flobberworm. "Apologize."  
  
"I'm sorry, Starcatcher."  
  
It was too late. The Seeker had fled the hall. From the end of the table Chloe Davies got up to follow her. Over Malfoy's shoulder, Hermione and Severus saw her bolt. The Slytherin saw their faces and turned around.  
  
Faster than Hermione or Severus, Malfoy had wrung the story out of the Weasley boys. He made short work of them all, taking his first five points from Gryffindor for MacAndrew and then giving Donaghan ten for his chivalry. Two minutes had him back at the teachers' table.  
  
"They were teasing her about those Muggle clothes she wears. Are they the only ones she has besides her wizard robes?"  
  
"Well…I think so, actually." Hermione was shocked that she had somehow forgotten that. Severus gave Malfoy a look and a parchment scrap.  
  
"Here's a check out of our Gringotts vault. While you're in London, Julie can find some proper things."  
  
"Well, uh, Sev- -uh," Malfoy stumbled, uncertain how the phrase the problem he had with this. "I haven't the faintest clue how to shop with a girl."  
  
"It's just like with a guy, except girls take it really seriously and ask your opinion on everything," Hermione clarified. Draco looked pale as Severus added his own part.  
  
"You also have to watch that she doesn't buy something outrageous like a skirt that doesn't go to her knees at least."  
  
"Severus! She's fifteen and it's nearly two-thousand nineteen here. She doesn't have to dress like a nun, you know."  
  
"I don't want her frisking about in those little pleated numbers the girls wore in your class so often."  
  
"Like they weren't just as bad when you were in school, too. The dress code recommends skirts, there's really no reason for them not to be shorter or somewhat tight."  
  
"At least Julie has the sense God gave a stump and wears jeans around the satyrs that I see in class."  
  
"That may be because she doesn't own a skirt. Have you noticed how much she sticks out that way?"  
  
"Wouldn't she anyway?"  
  
"Not that way! Every other girl in Hogwarts wears a skirt most days, it's only Julie in bluejeans and patched-up shirts."  
  
"Why doesn't she wear your old ones, Hermione?" Draco asked, afraid that a fight might break out with them.  
  
"She can barely fit into my old school robes from seventh-year because she's so tall and her arms are as long as her father's now."  
  
"And the skirts you wore were really quite ridiculous."  
  
"You didn't seem to mind that when I wore them though," Hermione pointed out mischievously, making Draco and Severus blush dark red.  
  
"Do you think I want her doing some of the things that you did in them, dear?"  
  
Now it was Hermione's turn to go brilliant red. Draco bit his lip to keep from laughing at the both of them.  
  
"I think that the Malfoy good taste can be trusted here."  
  
"That's why I asked you to supervise. If I asked Ginny Weasley she'd come back dressed like Britney Spears or maybe worse."  
  
"And you know I'm too busy with N.E.W.T.s to write."  
  
"I think you'll have to get her first dress robes, dear. I'm certain Draco can find school clothes that aren't so-"  
  
"Flamboyant?"  
  
"Tight?" Hermione and Malfoy looked at one another. "I think you can trust me," Draco observed.  
  
"Alright, Malfoy, but no riding crops or garter belts."  
  
Severus looked quite pale at his wife's joking remark, and he gave Draco a firm look of 'ignore that,' before noticing that Malfoy was pale as well. Except it wasn't in horror at what she'd said, it was in fear of what Severus might do to him if he knew that he'd taken her jeans off once.  
  
"Can I expect you both back here at dinnertime?"  
  
"Sure, we're going to fly because Julie can't Apparate."  
  
"Good, good. She'll like that."  
  
"Flying from Hogwarts to London?" Hermione asked in shock.  
  
"It's quite usual, her broom can go quite fast, you know."  
  
"But- -but airplanes, and helicopters…large pigeons, she could get killed doing that!"  
  
"I assure you, our daughter is capable."  
  
"Alright."  
  
Judging by her expression, Severus knew Hermione would not relax a second all the whole day long. Draco reassured her that Julie was very good, and after making him promise to be very careful, she allowed him to go and find Julie.  
  
"Are you alright?" Severus asked her very tenderly. It was the tone of voice that almost always made her want to drop everything and just hug him, which for the sake of where they were she did not do right then. "I can trust Draco to watch over his honorary niece, surely."  
  
"She's never really taken to him as an uncle, though."  
  
"I know, she only calls him 'Malfoy' just like you do, dear." Severus scratched the side of his head a bit above his ear. "Must either be an influence or just genetic dislike of blond people."  
  
"You don't think she'd-"  
  
"Definitely not. I'd trust Draco as if he were my own son- -not that way!"  
  
"That is a profoundly frightening thought, isn't it?"  
  
"Very. And it's hypocritical of me to even suspect that it might happen."  
  
"Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice, and what we did was very unusual."  
  
"It turned out nicely, though, didn't it?"  
  
"Very, Professor, you done with this?"  
  
"Quite. Should we just go back to our classrooms or sit and chat?"  
  
"Well, one of our classrooms sounds interesting."  
  
Severus gave her a sidelong grin and kissed her on her left cheek.  
  
"Nice as you are, I hope our daughter doesn't take after you that much. Meet me in the dungeons?"  
  
"Five minutes."  
  
"Fairy droppings," Draco attempted, having forgotten what password Julie'd used two days ago. The Fat Lady gave him a look of profound disgust. "Fairy rear ends, fairy shoelaces? I know it was something with fairies, can't you give me half credit?" The Fat Lady giggled and shook her head. "Fairy…tails?"  
  
"Right, dear, try writing it on your arm."  
  
The portrait swung aside and Malfoy sighed in relief to gain entry at last. Little Chloe Davies walked right up to him at the door. It was plain from her long veela hair whose daughter she was, and Malfoy was stunned by her bravery.  
  
"You aren't supposed to know the password, sir."  
  
"You aren't supposed to talk back to professors, miss."  
  
"You're Julie's dad's friend, aren't you? She's upstairs in her room if you want to see her."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Davies." Malfoy started toward the steps to the fifth- years' rooms, then paused and remembered he wasn't supposed to have ever been there before. "Could you show me where her room is?"  
  
"Of course, Professor Malfoy, it's right up here." Chloe led him right to the familiar door, which today had a different picture on it. Instead of a reproduced Muggle album cover, Julie had put up a wizarding picture of what looked like a long, skinny rabbit with shorter ears. A ferret. Malfoy winced at the memory of being one and realized he might have offended her. Would anyone have told her that little anecdote? Her best friends were two Weasleys, he remembered, so she could probably recite it now from memory. He had definitely offended young Starcatcher.  
  
"Julie?" he inquired, knocking while Miss Davies watched protectively.  
  
"Come in!" a cheery voice announced, and he did so with Chloe behind him.  
  
Julie was holding a large ferret in her hands, clearly a pet, as it nuzzled her. Malfoy went a little paler and Chloe smiled at them.  
  
"You feelin' better, Julie?"  
  
"Oh, much better, thanks, Chlo'. I was thinking about what you said, maybe we can stop by Hogsmeade tomorrow night?"  
  
"I'm only in first year."  
  
"Damn, I forgot. Well, I'll ask the Marauders to help me out." Draco could have sworn that the two exchanged a secret glance. "I'm almost ready, Malfoy, could you hold Anthony a minute here?"  
  
Malfoy found himself holding the ferret, which seemed a little more interested in it's mistress than the blond-haired man holding it. He started to say something, only to see that the ferret was looking into his eyes almost humanly –very odd.  
  
"Nice ferret…Anthony," he mumbled, only to have the ferret abruptly dart down his shirt and circle around his pant leg. It loped across the floor like a spotted streak, climbing Julie's leg right up to her shoulder then.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Malfoy, he's trained to come back to me. If somebody says his name nervously when they're holding him, he does that, which is just what he's trained to do. Obedient things, ferrets, aren't they? Shozo yubi hito de!!"  
  
At those words Julie gave it, the ferret ran back to Malfoy and began to run around his boots. Draco stood frozen to the spot, terrified, even as Chloe giggled at him quietly. "Kata de kudasai!" Julie called sharply. Seconds had Anthony back on her shoulder.  
  
"Was that Japanese you command him in?"  
  
"Sure, he's an Edo Spotted Ferret, right?"  
  
"So you told him to 'polish the person's shoes'?"  
  
"Yeah, it looks like he did an okay job, too."  
  
"Well, how come he ran to me and not Chloe?"  
  
"Because he isn't stupid. If I meant Chloe I'd tell him 'shozo yubi Chloe de.' He knows who my friends are- -oh, there he goes."  
  
Chloe picked up the ferret from at her feet and returned him to Julie with a mischievous smile.  
  
"I'd better be off to go study, now. See you later, Julie, professor Malfoy."  
  
The instant the half-French first-year was gone, Julie looked more nervous than ever in Malfoy's presence alone. She put Anthony into his cage and gave him a treat, still watching the blond-haired man in her room.  
  
"I just heard today that you're going to be our new Charms professor at Christmastime."  
  
"Yeah, I'm giving up Aurory for teaching now."  
  
"So long as you don't start a dueling club, I think you'll do a great job with it."  
  
"Wouldn't you like to learn dueling from the best?"  
  
"I just got my teeth to a normal size, thank you."  
  
Malfoy smirked a little at her wry sarcasm. If nothing else, she could be funny sometimes.  
  
"Your parents told me to get you some clothes as well. I've got a slip for their Gringotts vault, you should be able to figure out what you want."  
  
"Clothes? But I've got clothes."  
  
"They're Muggle ones."  
  
"Up 'til recently I lived among Muggles. And there doesn't seem to be much difference from the wizard kind."  
  
"Well, most girls here wear school skirts and stuff like that; and those jeans are just so…tight, y'know?"  
  
"I know you know for sure just how tight they are." Malfoy knew she was definitely ticked at him. "Did you have a hard time with the buttons in the dark that night?"  
  
"Look, I didn't want you to sleep in tight clothes that way, you might wake up really sore from the seams of them."  
  
"I've slept in tight jeans before, Malfoy. Tell me; why not unseam them with your wand to take them off of me? 'Ravelus Stiticus' should serve that end perfectly."  
  
She wasn't even touching her wand, but the words of the spell made her clothes fall apart where they hung on her. Malfoy's were just as quick, falling off into pieces around his feet. Both Seekers leapt to opposite sides of the four-poster.  
  
"How the hell did you do that?"  
  
"I've no idea!"  
  
"The counterspell's 'reparo,' try it without your wand at our clothes."  
  
"Okay…reparo?" The clothes resewed instantly.  
  
"You haven't got your wand taped to your arm or something?"  
  
"No, it's right there in my robe pocket with my quill and the letters I got today."  
  
"You didn't touch your wand to do those spells?"  
  
"No, Malfoy!"  
  
They were both on the ground with only heads above the level of the tall, wide bed. "Have you got your wand?"  
  
"No, it's in my robes, too."  
  
"Damn!" Fortunately Chloe had had the sense to close the door behind her. "I'm going to try and get them and throw them over there, so shut your eyes or I'll tell Dad you were in here."  
  
"I'll tell your dad you were naked, too."  
  
"You wouldn't be that stupid."  
  
"Would I now? Your dad's known me as long as he's known your mum. You're a dangerous almost-sixteen-year-old, plus you are your mother's daughter in a certain sense."  
  
"Are you saying you don't want to close your eyes, Malfoy?" She was teasing him horribly and he felt his face redden further at that comment. Squinting his eyes tight, he also realized he was interested in how she looked. This was much to long a wait for her to throw the clothes.  
  
"Got your eyes shut, too, Starcatcher?"  
  
"I'm putting my own clothes on first, thank you. Haven't you noticed it's cold in here?"  
  
"Yes, actually I have. It is very cold." 'Not cold enough, though,' he thought somewhat ruefully. "Have you at least got your shirt on yet?"  
  
"I'm completely dressed, now you're the naked one."  
  
"You're doing this for revenge, aren't you?"  
  
"No, I just like naked men in my room. Sometimes I can get as many as six at a time to crouch in the corner and shiver there. Amuses me no end in wintertime."  
  
"You are the sickest half-Mudblood I've ever known."  
  
"Oh, a half-Mudblood? That's a new one. Doesn't 'Mudblood' mean your parents are Muggles? Both of mine are rather gifted wizards who would probably find this whole story to be quite the situational comedy."  
  
"Did you do this on purpose?"  
  
"No, I didn't, actually. I think it's funny, though, now that I'm dressed and you're not, you sexy bitch."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I d'know, just thought it might get a rise from you. Here's your clothes and I have got my eyes shut now."  
  
"You damned well better. I could take every point Gryffindor's got, you know."  
  
"Could you? Don't you have to explain why you took them off?"  
  
"You're being insubordinate."  
  
"This isn't class. And you aren't technically my professor 'til Christmastime."  
  
"I gather you get dinged a lot as 'insubordinate.'"  
  
"Nearly every other day when Dad can manage it. Was he always so biased toward the Slytherins?"  
  
"He was when I had him."  
  
"Figures, then. Except now he's being mean to their guys sometimes, lots of dings for 'distractedness' and 'staring off into space.'"  
  
"He's afraid that they're checking out his baby girl."  
  
"Don't I know it? I guess that's why he's decided that I need new clothes."  
  
"That and you did storm out on the Gryffindors for teasing you."  
  
"Oh, I was just sick of Mack and Donaghan being men. The Weasley boys too, y'know, I just got sick of being the only girl sitting there."  
  
"They were ragging on those Muggle clothes, weren't they?"  
  
"More like on the figure that's under them. They were also terribly amused when the new professor asked me to join him on a trip today."  
  
"I didn't know that. I'm sorry they did that, then."  
  
"It's not your fault everyone thinks I'll dig older men. Just 'cause Mum went off the deep end in seventh year doesn't mean I'll start banging professors now."  
  
"So why did you mind me taking off your jeans that night?"  
  
"Oh, I d'know, part of it was the way I took the postscript to your little note, and most of that was self-disgust for nodding off that way. That, and it was obvious you'd noticed a few things you shouldn't have."  
  
"Just two. Nice legs you've got for a Seeker, girl."  
  
"You didn't mind the- -nevermind. I give up."  
  
"How did you know that I didn't unseam your pants?"  
  
"I dreamed about it the whole night long afterwards. Guess I got a little disgusted with that part too."  
  
"It's perfectly alright to have dreams like that, just so your mind knows what's being done to the outside part. Most stronger wizards have those, and you seem quite strong for your age and training time. You just unseamed both our clothes without a wand."  
  
"So you think the dream was just letting me know what had gone on, then?"  
  
"Absolutely, there's no other reason for it."  
  
"Then how come I've had the same bloody dream ever since that night?" Julie was now standing facing Malfoy with eyes open. He was buttoning his black shirt up to mid-chest.  
  
"Maybe hormones, or worrying about my class?"  
  
"I told you, I only found out you were becoming a professor this morning. I'm not stupid, Malfoy, I know why I'm dreaming about you now." Draco froze under her gaze, knowing why himself. "So I know that what everyone says is wrong, just a little test to see if I still feel it."  
  
Julie moved close to Malfoy and touched his arm. Instantly, she went from self-assured to more timid than before. She moved her hand very slowly up his arm to his shoulder then, and while she frightenedly tried to prove she did not feel for him, Malfoy made the biggest mistake in his life so far.  
  
Kissing Donaghan was nothing like that, she knew. 


	13. A Day With the Enemy

A/N: I realize that this was a totally uncalled-for and probably unlikeable plot bunny, but it's the plot that the bunnies left in my head. Drat overdosing on Easter chocolates anyway. I'm also putting these few chapters up at the same time as my Internet's out a lot, so between eleven, and twelve, I got no reviews. Nobody had read them to review because they weren't up yet. If I get this one done tonight, it will be three at once, and if not it will just be the two. Two at once seems like a good update. And with regards to the reviewers I had who liked Donaghan, I'm sorry, but it needs to look this way right now. I haven't decided who she finally winds up with, and there is also some Voldie-stuff that will make everybody run around for a few. (Hint: she's not evil or anything.) I just knew that the issue of her parents' precedent in connection with wizard teen hormones and a Malfoy who looks like James Marsters now…well, who could resist such a fine chunk of British manflesh there? Oh, and the rating is moved up to R, just-in-case. 

I won't make another move until you tell me to. Here you go with the next part.

Chapter Thirteen: A Day with the Enemy

Julie should have pulled away, she knew she had to, she knew that what was happening was really wrong. If her father caught her like he had with Donaghan she would probably be grounded 'til her seventh year, but damn it if Malfoy wasn't great at this! A slight moan escaped one of them as he kissed her with total expertise, grown-up Seeker's hands stroking her nervous frame. She couldn't tell which of them had made the sound, but it might very well have been her, this kissing was making her feel so strange. Malfoy pulled her close and she could feel how warm he was, how comforting and soft in those dark black clothes. His chest was firmer than she'd thought and his arms felt quite strong. Ohhh, to spend her life doing this! Suddenly Malfoy pulled away and asked her quietly:

"Pass that test? Did you feel anything?"

Instantly the Snape in her jumped to work.

"Well, aside from your shirt and your mouth on mine, not really what I'd worried about feeling there. Good thing, too." 

A little of that denial was meanly based, as she had _not_ wanted Malfoy to stop that kiss. But she couldn't very well say she liked him, though? Oh, drat. Might as well sink the dagger to the hilt at least. "You kiss decently for your age, but not your height. Sometimes being tall is a handicap."

Malfoy nodded numbly and let her walk across the room. The little Gryffindor witch didn't fancy him! Or _was_ she Gryffindor, this Slytherin girl tricking him? But she was being so civil it had to be real. So he tossed out a small denial of his own:

"You could do with a little more work, yourself. Just your right side, you favor the left too much."

"I just regrew my right teeth a while ago. And I am somewhat severely out of practice here."

"Good technique, though, you catch like a Seeker should."

For a moment Julie was completely befuddled by that remark, until she remembered how she'd used her hands on him just then. It was a good thing he hadn't worn leather pants.

"One does try to make performance realistic, now."

"It's a pity that they don't teach you sex magic. You could do very well at Beauxbatons taking that."

"I assume that's for seductions and stuff like that?"

"Mostly, though there's more arcane uses, too."

"Who needs a class when you've grown up in an orphanage?"

Malfoy realized she was probably used to kissing, and maybe not just from guys, and maybe not just kissing, either, now.

"Could you answer me one question, Julia Snape?" She nodded. "Have you ever shagged with a Muggle guy?"

"Not any Muggles, no."

That was such an ambiguous answer, there, she had to be baiting him to ask more.

"Good, because they tend to teach bad habits. And as your professor, I would be doing you a disservice to say you didn't have some very good potential there."

Drat the insensitive Slytherin!

"About that, do I have to call you 'professor' when I'm not in class?"

"Well…do you call Potter that?"

"Just in class and during Quidditch games. Otherwise I call him 'Uncle Harry.'"

"Figures. Well, it would be kind of silly to call me 'Uncle Draco' when you haven't managed to use my first name once yet."

"Isn't that humorous, especially considering what we just did?"

"Why don't you use my first name ever, Starcatcher?"

"Probably because you barely ever use my right name, just the long version or my middle one or my last name too."

"And what is your right name, Julia Starcatcher Snape?"

"'Julie,' of course. 'Julia' sounds like the slutty chick from _'1984.'_ Ever read that? It's a Muggle book."

"Actually, I have. Quite a nice book, that."

"Oh, great. Now whenever you want to mess with me you'll call me Julia. At least I can call you a ferret back."

"I was wondering when you'd pull that old story out."

"Was it interesting, being a ferret?"

"Scary and somewhat painful, actually, considering that Moody git bounced me up and down off the dungeon floor."

"I mean the whole having whiskers and a twitchy nose, plus suddenly being able to bend down your spine's whole length. Did your vision change?"

"A little bit. It was very weird to have fur instead of clothes."

"Are you an Animagus like the other professors yet?"

"Yes, actually I am. We'd better leave here soon if we want to get back to Hogwarts by dinnertime."

"Alright, my Firebolt's over here. You have yours?"

"It's back in my quarters-"

"Then _accio."_

Julie opened her window and door, not sure which route Draco's broom would take to get there. It came in the window and she caught it. She hadn't so much as touched her wand or mentioned what she wanted to Summon. "Alright, why does everyone get weird when I do that?"

"A wandless 'accio' takes years to perfect, and you're only a fifth-year and Muggle-raised."

"Technically, it's my first year, I'm just in the fifth-year class."

"Even stranger. The only wandless 'accio' I've ever seen was when Lord You-Know-Who-" Draco froze nervously.

"What'd he do, Malfoy? You can tell me."

"It isn't something I like to talk about."

"I understand. But Voldemort could do it?"

"Yes, that's why it's so weird now that you know how."

"It's not a question of knowing how, I just did it."

"So it's instinctive completely, then?"

"Yeah, I bet it's from Dad's side, just a Snape trick."

"What do you mean, a Snape trick?"

"If I'm stirring a potion, I can take my hand off the spoon and it still spins until I want it to stop stirring. Dad can do it instinctively but Mum can't. And she can turn pages of books just by will alone, I'm learning to control that one sort of slow."

"So wandless spells run in your family?"

"I guess so."

"Alright. It's still weird when a kid your age does that, though."

"As weird as when a kid my age kisses you?" Patronization was one of several things Snapes had no patience for. Draco looked at her in surprise and got on his broom. "You'd better not wear your wizard robes in Muggle London. y'know."

"You're right." He pulled them off and tucked his wand in his satin shirt. 

Julie realized with a little sting that he wore all black clothes just like her father did. Yet he reminded her of someone else…a Muggle…Jim Morrison? Damn it all to hell! 

"Well, am I suitable?" he asked her. She realized that she had been gazing a little more longingly than really appropriate.

"Well, black is a basic color…I guess it'll do." She put her own robes on the bed, revealing a decidedly more colorful outfit- -the same one she'd worn when she fell asleep.

"Didn't you wear that two days ago?"

"Yeah, what's the problem?"

"Well, don't you maybe have something else to wear?"

"I wore my other shirt and jeans yesterday."

"You mean to tell me that you only own two shirts and pairs of pants?"

"What's so odd about that? In an orphanage it's what you get yourself and the uniforms. These are the only clothes I could afford on allowance."

"How do they give allowance at orphanages? You've no parents to pay you a weekly check."

"Check?" Julie asked in disbelief. "We do odd jobs like cleaning and serving food. The most I ever got at one time was, like, seven quid."

"Quid?"

"The proper term's pounds, it works out to about eight of your Galleons. That was when I rewaxed the floor of the kitchen, though."

"They made you work like a house-elf just for spending money?"

"Hey, it was better than never getting anything. Little kids used to get a half-crown a week for making their beds and stuff, but bigger ones worked to get more than that. It breeds a good work ethic."

"It sounds cruel."

"Well, what did you used to do for allowance then?"

"I…got decent grades and wrote letters home."

"No cleaning up or watching the younger kids?"

"There were never any younger kids to watch."

"Crimeny. We used to get outings for decent grades. I heard your family was rich, but that's ludicrous."

"What do your parents give you for allowance now?"

"I've never mentioned it, just in case it wasn't correct, you know. That and I haven't really wanted anything."

"Not at Hogsmeade in any of the shops up there?"

"The only times I've gone without Mum or Dad have been with the Gryffindors. Tim-and-Tom's dads let us eat what we want from the joke shop, and Madame Rosmerta gives us butterbeer free for some reason, now."

"That's right, when the whole team goes for a drink after a game, it's tradition to give out a free round to whoever won the game."

"Logical, that, then. I've never lost yet in my first two games."

"I can't believe that those are your only clothes."

"I've also got a vest and a long raincoat."

"Still, I can see why your father gave me this slip."

"Hadn't you better have left by now?" Hermione was there at the door.

"We were just about to when I saw what she's wearing now."

"Yes, this patch shirt just seemed a bit odd to him."

"She only owns two shirts and pairs of jeans."

Hermione had noticed that Julie seemed to have two definite favorites, but she was totally unaware that it had been that bad.

"Julie, why didn't you tell me, then?"

"They fit okay and didn't itch, what's so wrong with only two shirts here?"

"How long have you had that old patched-up one?" Draco asked a little malevolently.

"Since I made it from scraps in my sewing class. It's my favorite."

"Julie," Hermione was genuinely shocked now. "You're allowed to tell us when you only have two outfits."

"And like I said, what's so bloody wrong with two?"

"Most kids here have ten different shirts at least."

"What did you wear at the orphanage?"

"There were uniforms for school and these were weekend clothes. Over summertimes I just did what I do right now."

"Then you bought these yourself?"

"Yeah, and then I sewed and sort of customized most of them. My other shirt didn't have sleeves, so I sewed some on. The vest is from a vintage store and so's my coat."

"This is ridiculous. You've got to have proper clothes."

"I like these, though, and you don't have to buy all my clothes for me."

"Yes, I do, Julie, you're my daughter." Hermione was smiling now, and Julie realized that she wouldn't win this fight. "How about you just go to the library with Malfoy, I'll meet you in Diagon Alley at four?"

"I think that would be a profoundly good idea." Malfoy was far from adept at choosing females' clothes. Julie looked distinctly uncomfortable, but nodded, too. At least she wouldn't be stuck with Malfoy for the _whole_ day.

Malfoy staggered out of the library with Julie. She had a folder of things that she'd photocopied, as did he, as well as a great lot of things from their Web searches. He wasn't used to anything they'd seen in there.

"I never knew Muggles had so many ways to not _need_ magic."

"Yeah, I thought you'd swallow your wand when I showed you the Internet. At least books are the same between all humans."

"At least no Muggle ones roar when you open them."

"D'you fancy a packet of Muggle crisps?"

"I've never had them."

"They're excellent. Right in here." Malfoy followed Julie into a Muggle shop, where three teenagers abruptly ran over and spoke to her.

"Julie Starcatcher!"

"It's you!"

"Where have you been?"

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked them joyfully, as they were evidently friends from an orphanage. The smallest of the three girls was hugging her. "What's been up at Broughton since I left you guys?"

"Miss Parkington's boyfriend has been by twice!"

"Vet'ran cosmic! Is he dishy?"

"Really, really cute!"

"So where are you living now?"

"I'm at school. You guys are not gonna believe this, but…" Julie looked a little overjoyed by this good news she had. "I found my parents and they're teachers at my school."

The girls gave her triplicate looks of disbelief and congratulation.

"No way!"

"What's your last name?"

"It's 'Snape,' actually. I have my dad's nose and my mum's eyes and both their hair."

Evidently knowing which parent you looked like or even having a real last name was something valued and incredible to orphan kids. Malfoy had a few breathless moments where he was sure Julie would tell them about Hogwarts, but she just gave them the basics of her parents' characters, as well as an outline of her honorary family.

"Is this Uncle Harry, then?" one asked, indicating the blond older Slytherin.

"Naw, this's Draco Malfoy, my father's friend." One of the girls whispered something in Julie's ear, only to be given a swift elbow in the ribs for it. "Malfoy, these are Beatrice, Rosaline, and Hero, my friends from the Broughton Orphanage."

"It's nice to meet you ladies," he replied politely. They responded in kind with a few glances at Julie and then at him. 

"I went to Broughton first and then to Meadow, then to Abercroft. Then it was Saunderside, Broughton again, Carriagehill, Denningford, and finally back to Broughton before my new school."

"They switch kids around that much normally?"

"No, I kept getting booted for mischief and stuff."

"Mischief? You rode an elephant away from the circus once!"

"Cory wanted to see one, I promised him that he would."

Instantly the girls grew quieter, as this was obviously one of Julie's tender spots. Malfoy wasn't sure who Cory was, but evidently Julie had cared a lot about him once, probably still did. A boyfriend? Best friend? It fit her genes to make friends with a younger or less adept student, as evidenced by little Miss Davies and the inept Malgryevic, who seemed echoes of her mother's kindness to Longbottom. Now that he thought of it, it was most likely the latter. Why would she date someone who wanted to see an elephant so badly? It almost had to be someone younger.

It occurred to Malfoy that he didn't like the idea of Julie dating Muggle boys. Silently he cursed himself and those damn Muggle tight jeans. This was know-it-all Granger's daughter, he tried to remember, hoping that his old dislike of her mum might make her less desirable. But even with the same bushy hair and newly-remedied teeth, Julie's charm as she caught up with her school friends was infectious. If Snape had been cheerful, female, and only marginally less ironic, he could have been a model of his daughter. Malfoy found that very hard to take.

Before long, the girls had to go back with an old teacher, who seemed horribly suspicious with Julie there. After a fairly well contrived cheerfulness as she said goodbye to her three old friends, Julie bought what she'd come for with the Muggle money in her jeans pocket. Malfoy followed her out of the shop right then.

"Where'd you get that?"

"It's left over from the orphanage. I do have _some_ money saved, I'm not stupid here."

The tone of her voice betrayed her, she was very shaken and Malfoy quickly realized why. She had just lied about her new life to her three old friends, who would never know about Hogwarts or wizardry. There was also something about the way her face had frozen when they mentioned the elephant that led Malfoy to suspect that had hurt her too.

"Are you alright? You seem like something's just gone all wrong."

"Oh, it's nothing, I just miss my friends a bit."

"If you like, we could go visit Cory, too. We've got two hours before we need to meet your mum." 

Julie's voice dropped to an almost inaudible growl.

"No, Malfoy, we couldn't. He passed away."

Instantly he grasped the situation. She had once lost someone like a sibling. Even as an only child, he knew what he had felt when one of his best friends died. Knowing her background and tendency to hide all fears, as well as from knowing her father, Malfoy guessed that she had never mourned her friend. It hurt him to see her that way, and without even considering how incorrect it was for him to feel that way, he started thinking of a way he could make her feel better now. Julie was still as dismissive as ever as it came to him: 

"Besides, it's kind of rotten to lie about being a witch, even if it is just omissive lies. I'm not usually dishonest with friends, y'know?"

Malfoy swallowed hard, nervous about what he was going to tell her next.

"Did you know that You-Know-Who killed my father, Julie?"

"I just knew he had died and your mother became a spy."

"Well, that's how it happened. I saw Voldemort use a wandless 'accio' to throw his body over on some Muggle ones. He killed my father because he was sparing them." Malfoy drew a deep breath and went on in as steady a voice as he possibly could. "I didn't get a chance to tell him that when he let those Muggles go, I was prouder of him than I'd been my whole life. It was a year before I was able to say goodbye. And when I could, I went to his grave in the family plot, and I told him what I felt about what he'd done and how Mother was, and that the Dark Lord had fallen for the last time. It sort of helped me, you know, so maybe you could go and tell Cory about what's going on in your life right now."

Julie had listened respectfully, biting her lip and staring in a useless attempt not to cry at all. A single tear escaped her left eye and she brushed it away roughly. "If you don't want to, that's alright, too, maybe you could tell me what he was like. That helped my mother when she mourned Dad."

Julie was quietly crying now, having given up all pretense of fighting tears.

"Alright…Cory was supposed to be named Richard. Every anonymous baby at Broughton, they opened Shakespeare's Plays at random and pulled out a name."

"That's how come Beatrice, Rosaline, and Hero all have Shakespeare names?"

"Yeah. And mine landed on Julius Caesar, except I was a girl, so I'm 'Julia'. There were already two boys named Richard there, so they named him 'Cory' after the poem by E.A. Robinson. He was always really sick, had a limp and stuff. He also hardly ever got to go outside. It made his skin as pale as mine and his hair was black, so I kind of adopted him as my brother based on looks. Every winter he got sicker and spent more time in the hospital, and every year he missed the circus. His favorite stuffed animal was the elephant that used to be mine as a kid, and he wanted so badly to see a real one. I promised him when he was eight that he would get to see it the next time it came to town, and that year one came in the summertime. He was in the hospital still, so I untied the thing and rode it to his window. Miss Parkington let me go up and see him in detention, 'cause they punish you if you steal an elephant, and Cory looked so happy to see me there. The very next day, they kicked me out to Carriagehill. I was at Denningford when Cory finally passed away."

"So you never got a chance to say goodbye to him?"

"I wrote him letters every day, and Miss Parkington wrote his by dictation. She was a little like my aunt and more like Cory's mum."

"How old was he?"

"Nine when he passed away. He couldn't write because of all the tubes in him. He had something called osteogenesis imperfecta that made his bones break like chalk, and on top of that he was HIV-positive."

"I've heard that kills millions of Muggles now."

"Yeah. Most kids wouldn't even touch Cory because he had it."

 "Can you get it from touching them?"

"No, of course. If you weren't Professor Pureblood I'd smack you one for even asking, but you really don't know about Muggle things. You can only get it through the bloodstream or from sexual contact. It's otherwise perfectly safe, y'know?"

_"Professor Pureblood?" _Draco asked in mild shock.

"I'm sorry, that's what the Gryffindors call you now."

"Has your mother been setting up bias, too?"

"No, I think it's because you wear black and all, and because you were in Slytherin. That, and your last name _is _Malfoy."

"Great. I am never going to live down my family's curse."

"Well, if all else fails you could renounce the family fortunes, dye your hair red, and take up Muggle mechanics as a hobby thing; nobody could tell you from a Weasley, then."

"Uh, no."

"I was joking, you silly git."

"I _hoped_ so."

"But do you really not like Uncle Ron's family?"

"Well…it's not that I don't like them. I've just always been taught they were kind of subordinate in wizard society, and I've never been kind, so they don't like me. Your Uncle Ron is a very gifted Auror, and his brothers' joke shop is the best one in Europe now. If I could get in the door safely I would like it a lot more, but that's kind of irrelevant."

"Can I tell you a secret? Nobody does. So don't take it personally."

"I bet your father can."

"Nope. The first time he and Mum took me in there, they turned his robes bright saffron- -not his color by half, I might add."

"Saffron?"

"It's yellow, this color here." Julie pointed to the flowers in a shop window. "As in 'I'm just mad about saffron, she's just mad about me'?"

"There's a song about saffron?"

"A few shades of yellow, actually. Have you ever heard the Muggle singer Donovan?"

"Oh, that song. I actually have once or twice. Except it was in French and in Paris then."

"You really don't know anything about Muggles, do you?"

"Only the barest observations and little facts. My family held them in high contempt."

"Well, maybe if you know something about them, the kids won't treat you like so much of a pureblood, y'know?"

"When did the word 'pureblood' become an insult? It was the opposite when I was a kid."

"Well, considering England's Quidditch hero is second-generation from Muggle-born, plus the whole Voldemort thing…"

"You consider yourself England's Quidditch hero? I thought that I was bad."

"I meant Uncle Harry, you vet'ran cosmic twit."

"Alright, what is this veteran cosmic stuff you keep talking about?"

"It's not veteran, it's vet'ran. No middle syllable. Moody slang."

"Moody slang?"

"Oh, get in here." Julie pulled him into a record shop, moved like a Seeker in game to the bin marked 'M', and grabbed a thick stack of vinyl records marked 'Moody Blues.' Next she dragged Malfoy to a tiny booth, in which there was a phonograph and a great mess of speakers, too. "Shut the door, it's only soundproof if you close it up."

No sooner had Malfoy obeyed than a melodic fairground organ and a frightening little spoken-word poem began to make the speakers vibrate. The song that followed immediately was fast and absolutely laden with splashy guitar riffs, schizophrenic lyrics, and bizarre harmonica. The song's chorus was something to the effect of 'he struts, he strolls, his life is rock 'n roll, he's the Veteran Cosmic Rocker!' Just as Julie had clarified, however, there was no middle syllable, making the pronunciation 'vet'ran.'

"It's an intensifier, see, like very good Quidditch would be vet'ran cosmic Quidditch. Just a weird little slang tidbit, used among Muggles who dig this band."

Julie was almost shouting above the noise of the speakers, which in the soundproof booth to Malfoy seemed absolutely deafening. 

"Is it always this loud?"

"On a good day."

"Oh. Do they have any Muggle jazz here?"

"Sure, it's a vintage record shop. Just vinyl, though, no CDs, which I could not afford anyway."

"Alright, I'll be right back." The song ended and Malfoy opened the door. A few moments had him back with Glenn Miller, Django Reinhardt, Count Basie, and Benny Goodman. "My mum has these records at home."

"I thought your family hated Muggles."

"Not their music, though. Mum loves to dance to this kind of stuff, so do I." Malfoy put on the Benny Goodman, leaving the door profoundly open. He took Julie by the hand and pulled her unceremoniously out of the booth and spun her, evidently meaning to swing-dance right in the Muggle store. Julie knew she shouldn't, but for some perverse reason she went along with it, even when the store owner came and watched, glaring slightly and with his arms crossed. A small group of potential customers gathered to watch, though, and by the time the song ended and Malfoy released a decidedly winded young Gryffindor, it was almost ten people who had asked to buy the album, too. Julie was panting slightly when the owner finally recognized her.

"Starcatcher, I'll be blighted! What're y'after doin' back on Dennon Street, I thought they sent y' away again."

"Well, I'm back for a visit and some new music, Mr. McLean. Malfoy here just can't resist dancing, sometimes. Raving mad, poor dear, can't take him anyplace."

The store owner looked at the suddenly indignant Draco and smiled.

"Is this y're boyfriend, then, young Julie? 'Bout time you brought one in to show me, girl." Starcatcher went instantly violet-red. 

"Uh, no, sir, he's my father's friend…my _real dad_. I found my parents and they're teachers at my school."

"That's exc'lent, Julie! So who do y' favor with that black 'air?"

"My dad's color, my mum's sort. I've also got Dad's nose an' Mum's color eyes."

"Isn' that a wonder? It's always great when Broughton kids find out their parents' names. Do you get to see them often?"

"Now I live with them."

"So they wanted y'! That's lov'ly. Sometimes kids as finds their parents an' the buggers don' want the kid at all, none, but y're after bein' one of the lucky ones. Have y' got a last name, too, to go with things?"

"I'm Julia Starcatcher Snape, actually."

"I like that name, it suits you sort of raven-like. And consid'ren the way you snipe away at a body insultin' every stick of wood in his store, y'know, until 'e finally orders a disc y' want, I guess one letter's change describes y' still."

Malfoy pricked up his ears at this.

"So you know Julie from her days at the orphanage?"

"Aye, don' I know 'er? Seems a week ago she were four, buyin' 'er first disc with 'alf a pound. Always the best taste of any kid came in 'ere."

"Four? And they let her come in alone?"

"Well, na, that nice Parkington girl brought her in that year. Sweet girl, she is, Broughton kid like Julie, grew up, now she works there still."

"Miss Parkington was my first teacher, Malfoy," Julie explained, indicating a faded sign that hung above one row of bins. "She taught me how to read on that sign up there."

"How, just in this one store?"

"Sort of, mate. One day little Julie came in with Judy, see, that's Miss Parkington, an' Judy asks her if she knows what that there sign says. Julie went through the letters a-soundin' it out, and that were the first sentence she read a'tall: 'Classic rock in good condition here.'"

"Prophetically defining her taste in music forevermore," Malfoy observed. "I can't quite imagine you at four years old."

"Shorter, less chesty, with baby teeth."

"Mr. McLean!"

"It's true, y've grown up a lot."

"Or should you say, out?" Malfoy teased, incurring one stomped foot. "It's a good thing you're Sev's daughter, or I'd knock you out," he muttered in mild pain.

"It's a good thing Mum's not with me or she'd curse y' bald."

For another breathless instant, Malfoy was sure she had given the magic world away, but the storekeeper merely chuckled as if Julie'd meant vituperatively. There were many things he had to learn about Muggles, Draco decided, and that Julie had to teach him was his next thought.


	14. A Day With Professor Mum

A/N: Well, I got my first flame for the last chapter. Apparently someone thinks Julie is annoying now. If I may just take a little moment to rebut that thought, I'll have a character address it in the story here. I didn't mind the flame; it just seemed kind of uninspired. There's a reason why this is a close-to-slash. And just one little note, I don't mean to finish soon. There will be at least seventeen chapters, I promise you. Far be it for me to follow Hilt only as far as my fingers can. By that I mean you will understand my story so much more by reading Christina Hilt's. This entire work is the result of a dare, y'know.  So, without further ado, here you go.

Chapter Fourteen: A Day with Professor Mum

"Hey, Mum!" Julie called out ecstatically.

"'Lo, Hermione." Malfoy drawled, considerably less enthusiastically. "Here's the kid and the note for your Gringotts vault. We wound up not needing it after all."

"What did you two get for lunch then?" Hermione asked.

"Muggle crisps and Cherry Coke." Julie told her mum.

"Both disturbingly good."

"You made Malfoy eat Muggle food? Good form, dear."

"I didn't make him, he ate crisps quite willingly."

"Salty little spud chips, aren't they? How come wizards don't eat crisps out of packets, too?"

"Maybe if you were nicer to your house-elves, they'd make you some."

"Not the soapbox! I'm leaving for Knockturn Alley, now." The blond-haired man waved to them both and was off again. "Thanks for the help in the library!"

"Is he always so two-faced?"

"Unfortunately."

"How did you stand him at Hogwarts, then?"

"I didn't. I slapped him across the face."

"Every day?"

"Only once in my third year."

"Was that the only opportunity you _had_ in school?"

"I take it he was not that fun to study with."

"No, just that he's so nice and then so nasty at a moment's turn. We ran into some friends from my old orphanage and I was kinda sad because I had to lie to them, plus it reminded me of- -somebody I once knew."

"Cory?"

"How do you- -oh, yeah, the memory test. Yeah, that was why, and he made me feel better. Then we went into the old record store I've gone to for years on end, and he goes and agrees with Mr. McLean in there."

"What did Mr. McLean say that offended you?"

"Oh, just a crack about how I've gotten more chesty than I was at four. Nothing that offensive from him, but from Malfoy it's just a little irking, now."

Hermione was seized with a sudden desire to meet this McLean fellow and ask him what Julie'd been like at four. She had barely remembered that Julie'd been a little child at some time before, and the notion that she hadn't seen her girl grow up was painful to her. Imagining four-year-old Julie, talking like a little kid and learning how to read made her instantly regret the wasted fifteen years. Julie's sixteenth birthday was in January and soon she'd be eighteen and leaving home for adult life. The thought was so terrible she sighed aloud.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just wondering why Malfoy has to be that way. I mean, it's obvious he likes you 'cause you're so like Sev -your dad, but the moment you act like me or like a girl at all he turns around. We tolerate each other, but we aren't quite friends. It's the same with your father and Harry still."

"I think teaching me to fly together helped them some."

"I think so, too. Can you think of anything you need to learn that Malfoy and I are both good at?"

"Animagic?"

"You're not old enough."

"Aren't I, though? Aldous can do it and he's sixteen, too."

"You're still fifteen for another three months, m'duck."

"I've done two wandless 'accio's and another spell…I won't even say it out loud in case it works again, but it unraveled all the seams in my clothes earlier."

"'Ravelus Stiticus'?"

"That's the one, with no wand. I didn't even mean to have that happen, but it somehow did."

"Were you thinking about anything odd at all, or were you alone in the room?"

"No…Malfoy was there." Julie watched her mother's face go from concern to total shock in seconds flat. "It's alright, his clothes fell apart as well."

"Well…what did you two do about it?"

"Hid on opposite sides of the four-poster while I righted it, then got dressed and cracked a few nasty jokes."

"So you didn't see anything-?"

"Just his chest. He's a little over-built for a Seeker, though."

"What do you mean?"

"He looks nice shirtless. True, his shirt was only unbuttoned, so he may be completely awful from the other side…I wonder if-"

"Do you really think he's dishy?"

"In a vampire way. I'm not interested in talking to him for more than a minute, though, so dating is profoundly a non-issue."

"Considering he's two years past twice your age, dating is decidedly not allowed."

"Can I still check him out in the halls if I'm good?"

"Julia!"

"It's a purely visual appreciation for his physical form. I'd be perfectly content to date other guys if I could just watch him occasionally. Wasn't it that way with Dad in school?"

"No, actually I didn't even think about your father's looks that much in school."

"Until-?"

"Why do you think there's an 'until'?"

"I'm standing right here, there has to be some kind of an 'until' there!"

"Alright, it was until he kissed me once after class."

"So he made the first move. I'd expected that."

"You aren't repeating my performance of sixteen years ago."

"I'd hope not and wasn't planning to! Still, if I think Malfoy's cute, can I watch him sometimes?"

"You remember what I told you about Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Yes, and speaking as the girl who had a vintage Justin Hayward picture from 1967 on her wall at four orphanages, I can say that I've been there myself with a vengeance."

"Who's Justin Hayward?"

"Oh, mother!"

"The Moodies?"

"The blond one with the guitar, the former dish."

"I'm so glad that wizard music is simpler."

"Is it? Your album covers _move,_ for cripes' sake."

"So?"

"If I had a sixties Justin moving, it'd be very bad."

"Don't you get that anyway on telly, dear?"

"Not the Moody Blues in the sixties, I don't. Jim Morrison, maybe, on a good day. Or Val Kilmer playing him, either way."

"I have really lost touch with the Muggles, now."

"Well, considering the kind of music I like is probably the kind Nana and Papa did, I wouldn't say you've lost touch completely, Mum."

"How about those new clothes I promised you?"

"That's alright, I've got these. They fit real well."

"Is there a reason why you don't like new clothes that much?"

"Well…it isn't so much the new clothes as you buying them. I've always bought my own since I was nine years old. It was either the uniforms or what you could afford yourself, and I decided early on I wanted to look my own way without making anybody else pay for it. Nobody's bought me so much as a sock before."

"You silly house-elf, you've got parents who love you now. And you've also got the Halloween Ball in two weeks or so, I can guarantee that bluejeans aren't the dress code there."

"I do have one skirt."

"You need dress robes."

"Okay, I'll find some."

"Do you have money?"

"Ninety Muggle quid left over from the orphanage."

_"Ninety?"_

"I saved quite a lot of allowance, Mum."

"Your father's thriftiness probably bred through, I guess."

"What tipped you off, the homemade clothes or vinyl record fix?"

"That is a very pretty shirt, you know. I do like it."

"Thanks. It took me a while to get it right. The blue, green, and white patches didn't always match. Why don't I just fix your old clothes to fit me, Mum?"

"Because you're taller than I was in seventh year. And they're a decade and a half out of style, you know."

"So? These jeans date back to the sixties. And that coat I have is older than my grandmother on either side."

"You don't mind old clothes?"

"I've never had the new."

"Julie, is this another of those beaten-in orphanage ethics like 'no malice after somebody beats you up'?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Then scrap it, it's a silly one. You need new clothes. Even if it's for no other reason than I need to amuse myself this afternoon, we're getting some."

"You find buying clothes for others that amusing, Mum?"

"Very. You can't think how much fun it was when I turned your Dad's robes pink."

_"Pink?"_ Julie looked at her mother in total awe. "If you can do that in my presence sometime, I'll be good."

"Blackmailer." Hermione smiled. "It's a deal."

***************** 

"Uh…am I supposed to look like Britney Spears just swallowed me?"

"You look cute."

"I look totally unnatural."

"Well, the lack of bluejeans shows how much the Quidditch work pays off."

"Mother!"

"You have nice legs, dear, why are you afraid to show them off?"

"Because I would like to walk into class without Dad taking points off of every male in the entire House for once."

"Weren't those tight jeans just as bad when you sat down, m'dear?"

"No, they never…did they really?"

"An awful lot."

"Damn, I was hoping it was just my shirt or something."

"Did it occur to you that guys might be mentally comparing you to your father there?"

"Once or twice. The Weasley boys compare us out loud sometimes."

"Do they?"

Julie lowered her voice an octave and gave a perfectly straight-faced imitation of Tom Weasley:

"'It's the nose, Tim, she definitely has old Snape's nose.' I get so sick of people ragging on that, y'know? I know it isn't the most normal one in the world, but it's not as if I had a bloody beak, really."

"It gives your whole face an ascetic look, just like your dad's."

"Which is precisely why I like it and will stick with it."

The clothes reflected in the mirror looked a little odd, and definitely not what Julie Snape was quite used to yet. There was a pleated skirt in blackish-gray and pullover, as well as a red and gold striped tie at the collar of a stiff white shirt. Aside from her face and her hair color being black, she might have passed for her mother sixteen years ago. Nervously she fingered the Gryffindor patch, unsure as to how her dad would take it all. There were some reasons why she liked the patched-up shirt so much, and one of them was the green, blue, and white color scheme. In it she looked more like a Slytherin. Her mother noticed the apprehension and smiled quietly.

"Your father doesn't mind that you're in Gryffindor. Well, I mean, he minds that he can't watch you every minute and you aren't in the dungeon, too, but he doesn't hate your House or your Quidditch team."

"I'm not sure I should be in Gryffindor at all, now, Mum."

Hermione set her daughter down and explained things to her:

"Even though you're devious enough to be a Slytherin, that doesn't mean you aren't brave enough for Gryffindor. And there's bravery in Slytherin, look at your Dad. There's also deviousness in Gryffindor-"

"By which I exist."

"True." Hermione gave Julie a look of near-sheepishness. "Really, the Houses are just a formality, a way to ensure that certain qualities develop wizarding diversity. If we all came from the same House, Britain couldn't possibly function. You get your strategists from Ravenclaw, your public servants out of Hufflepuff, your military strength and lawmakers from Gryffindor, and the political forces are from Slytherin. Not to say that there aren't people from every Hogwarts House in every field, but it seems to me that's why we still have Houses now. The line between two Houses is usually very slight, and as your father says, I might have done well in Slytherin. He would have also made an equally good Gryffindor. You just happened to be the first one with two exact halves, Julie, and no preference, which usually decides your place."

"Uncle Harry told me the Hat thought he'd do well in Slytherin."

"And so he would have, except he'd be a completely different Harry than the one we know."

"Will I be different because I'm not in Slytherin?"

"With your dad? I doubt if it'll matter much. And if you could tolerate Malfoy for three hours today, heaven knows what you can stand if you have to, now."

"So Dad won't mind these colors?"

"Not so very much. And it's alright to make him angry, he's kinda cute that way."

Julie gave her mother a sarcastic look.

"Okay, which person here's the dizzy teenager?" Her mother smiled and Julie frowned a little thoughtfully. "I've gotten used to having parents, a little bit, and I can't help but notice you think that you were too young to have had me then."

This shocked Hermione that Julie would pick up on that.

"You're also worrying I'll leave you when I graduate, thus resulting in a grown child you've barely got to know. Plus you're afraid that I think Malfoy is a total dish. Does that cover everything you're thinking here and now?"

"How did you know that?"

"Read your character and telltale signs. It's just a skill, like how I knew that Dad fancied you."

Hermione quietly sat down next to Julie and sighed aloud.

"I'm not leaving 'til you want me to, and I'll stay close. This family thing's something I've wanted since I was a little kid."

"I'm sorry I didn't take that test after you were born. I honestly don't remember that whole ten-month stretch."

"Could it have turned out any better than it already has?"

"I'd like to have seen you as a baby, watched you growing up."

"I sort of wish I had you when I learned to read and talk. Then maybe I wouldn't sound like a London street kid half or all the time."

"You sound like I did, only you've got more your father's voice. The way you tend to growl when you're angry, that's the Snape half, and your sarcasm goes likewise."

"Am I more like Dad than you?"

"No, I don't think so, Jules. You have my study habits and similar handwriting."

"Really? Which hand?"

"Your left. I think the ambidextrosity comes from my side of the family, too. Your Great-grandmother could write French with left and Greek with right."

"Which did she use for English?"

"Either one she chose. When I was very little she gave me my first big book, you know, the kind with chapters and big words, a grown-up book."

"Which one was it?"

"The old Shakespeare on the stand in my office."

"The big leather one the students think is full of spells?"

"Yeah, it's Shakespeare, merely Muggle plays and poetry. Do they think that it's just harder spells or nasty ones?"

"I'm not sure, they would just really like to look in it."

"Maybe sometime I will read aloud a little bit."

"The Three Witches in _Macbeth_, I think, would do quite well. After all, you do teach Potions, Mum, it would be cool."

"Good idea. I think the Weasley boys would love that piece."

"My thoughts, precisely."

"I thought so. They are good friends."

"But what are they going to say when I show up like this?" Mother and daughter smiled at the funny thought.

************ 

"Why all this Muggle stuff, Malfoy?" Mr. Borgin asked. "I have some Nazi things, but why do you want them? Invocation spell?"

"The Nazis were just as profoundly evil as Lord Voldemort. I consider it my job to see those things taken out of wizard hands. God knows what kind of enchantments those bastards might have used." 

Borgin flinched at open mention of the Dark Lord's name. Malfoy rattled his large bag of Galleons. "So how much do you want for this whole lot here?" There were a few gold enameled pins with little swastikas, a conductor's baton, an SS officer's hat, and a uniform with a pair of white gloves and a monocle. Still pinned to the jacket were some war medals.

"Thirty Galleons?"

"I'll pay fifteen."

"At least twenty-five."

"Twenty. Now take it or leave it, sir."

"Your father's knack for bargaining, your mother's hair," Borgin observed with a smile, sweeping up the uniform. "How would you like it wrapped?"

"Brown paper should be fine."

"Do you really think you need to destroy this, though?"

"I'm not sure I will, I just don't want some kid buying it and thinking it's cool to kill. I'm also going to strip it down for curses and spells, you know. There may well have been a wizard once who used this thing."

"But why this Nazi interest? What have you been reading?"

"Muggle books and things."

"You? Muggle things?"

"I was at a Muggle London library today, in fact."

"Alright, now the whole story. Who did you have to pay from Hogwarts to take you there?"

"I didn't pay anybody, I went with Julie Snape."

"Julie Snape? Severus' sister?"

"His daughter, nit." Borgin, Jr. and Malfoy were once schoolmates in Slytherin.

"He has a daughter? With the Mudblood?"

"Don't call her that. And yes, she' Hermione's daughter also, she's fifteen, now."

"I guess there was a reason why they married, then."

"One more remark like that and I'll leave the shop. They didn't even know they had her until this fall. She grew up in a Muggle orphanage and didn't know."

"So…does she favor her mother? In looks, I mean."

"Bushy hair and formerly just as bucktoothed, but she fixed hers, too. Her hair's black as Severus' and she has his look."

"Like a raven about to peck you?"

"The very type."

"So I take it she's a homely sort?"

"Oh, not at all. She's softer, more girlish, not exactly Sev…and those eyes are her mother's same shade of brown."

"I can't believe this. You think a half-Mudblood's cute."

"Not cute, precisely, just sarcastic and intelligent and far too bold." Malfoy tried to think of a word that'd describe Julie. "She doesn't speak her age and wears these _clothes_…tight Muggle jeans and stuff like that."

"I know the type."

"Her figure's sort of grown-up, too. I don't think I…"

"Don't think what?"

"I don't think I fancy her sexually, I mean she is fifteen, but she has some legs on her. And if she could maybe go ten minutes without insulting me in some sly way, I think I could get to like her as a niece of sorts."

"Is she Slytherin?"

"No, Gryffindor, but still quite sly and devious. The Hat couldn't decide on her, she's half-and-half. Because of the whole Voldemort thing, her dad decided she'd be better off in Gryffindor. She's Seeker for their team and not that bad if I must say."

"You don't suppose she thinks you're dishy?"

"No, she's not that kind. This morning she handed me a ferret just to fry my nerves."

"Oooh, Mummy's girl."

"Daddy's girl. You should see how Sev treats her. If it wasn't for her father I could hate that girl."

"What's stopping you?"

"That wit and those lovely eyes." Draco realized Borgin was giving him a knowing look. "Well, I can't stay all day, here's twenty for the Nazi stuff."

"Always a pleasure doing business with you."

As Malfoy left the shop, he noticed a snake in a cage outside. It was a lovely emerald green one, about as big as his wrist around and very long, and even sleeping it looked just like the Slytherin crest. It was perfect.

"How much do you want for the snake here, sir?" he asked the keeper of the pet shop, who smiled nervously.

"Oh, whatever you can afford, I really don't like snakes."

"No, I'll make a fair offer. What's your asking price?"

"Uh…four Galleons?"

"Do you hate the thing? I'd expect to pay thirteen at least."

"N-n-no, I j-just d-don't like-" As the snake uncoiled, the proprietor grew shakier. Malfoy smiled and pulled out fifteen Galleons.

"Here. What's it eat and is it a male or a female snake?"

"Er- a female…I call her Nagaina. She eats frozen rats or household vermin, any sort."

"Not ferrets?"

"They could kill her."

"Figures. Thank you and good afternoon."

"M-my p-pleasure, sir."

Malfoy picked up the cage and smiled at his new green friend. Nagaina made a happy-sounding 'hiss' noise, sticking her tongue out. She was certain to give the Gryffindors a heart attack, and help intimidate the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Perhaps he would give her a mouse in class, _that_ should take care of behavior there. Draco wasn't about to let Julie's ferret pranks go by, especially if he could scare her with a bright green snake. Annoying little Gryffindor half-Mudblood! Why did she have to make him think about her still? She was so irritating-

-which was usual for a Snape. Malfoy sighed, having forgotten who her father was. Now why did he keep doing that? It was certainly hard to miss with that same hair and nose, not to mention enough sarcasm to kill a goat. Was he really having thoughts about a student now? Damn her all to hell and take her mother, too!

And yet, Hermione was nice to him three nights ago. She was also relatively less than poisonous this morning, too. It wasn't the mother that made him think about Miss Julie Snape, it was Julie herself. So why was this offending him?

As he passed Quality Quidditch Supplies and looked at the newest make of Firebolt, the one he wanted for his thirty-fourth birthday soon, he remembered. She was fifteen. And undateable.

Damn!

****************** 

"Severus!"

"Dad!"

"Hello, darlings. Thought I should meet you two." Professor Snape gave his family a scanning look. True, there were only two people, but that was fine. "Have you managed to get Julie into proper clothes?"

His daughter sighed and unclasped her black wizard robes. Severus inspected the Gryffindor uniform and smiled at his wife.

"Most excellent. She looks like you did at fifteen."

"More like seventeen at this height. She takes after you."

"No, the eyes and smile are definitely you, dear."

"The nose is yours and her hair's darker than mine ever was."

"I get it! I look like the both of you."

"Dear me, she seems to have noticed that."

"How clever; must be your side."

"Are you sure it is?"

"Gaaah!" Julie stalked off to exactly five feet away, turned around and walked back with a cheerful grin. "Have you changed the subject?"

"Yes, we're talking about owls now."

"Oh. What color do you think is the prettiest?"

"I had a black one when I was your age."

"Why, I'd have never guessed, Dad. _Black?"_

"I had an orange tabby cat named Crookshanks."

"Whatever happened to the ungodly beast anyway?"

"He lives in my office, Sev!"

"Oh, sorry. Could have sworn the thing had died a couple years ago."

"Naw, Crookie just sits around and eats his catnip ball."

_"Crookie?"_

"Catnip ball?"

"I always fancied cats when I was at the orphanage."

"So that explains why he's purring more than usual."

"Is that what you do in detention, brush the cat for her?"

"Usually. It's nicer than boiling lotus roots or toad heads."

"Hermione, you favoritist! Your own child!"

"She lets the Weasley boys try potions like her guinea pigs," Julie revealed a bit indignantly. "One time she made Tom grow feathers."

"You- -you slacker! Detentions are supposed to be a punishment!"

"I don't like to punish people overmuch for spilling things. Some kids can't help being clumsy or not used to vials."

"Have I taught you nothing?"

"Nothing you would want me teaching _them_, m'dear." 

Again Hermione had made Severus blush to red. Julie gave her mother a look of shock.

"I cannot believe the way you two carry on sometimes. I thought parents were supposed to set a good example." She smiled jokingly and earned her father's glance for it:

"Julie, you're fifteen. It's a little late to try and change a _bad_ example."

"Yes, everything we do is the wrong thing, dear. Never fall in love, never get married, and by no means ever _ever_ have children."

"At least not until you think I'm old enough to do those things."

"Precisely."

"Thirty." Severus gave his daughter a piercing look. "And don't even ask when you're twenty-nine."

Julie shrugged and cracked her knuckles quit resoundingly.

"Not that there's anybody decent to date in school. The only cute ones are older or Slytherins, and heaven knows I'm devious enough by myself 'thout them."

"There's another thing, Julie, never date a Slytherin." Hermione kissed Severus on the cheek again. "They are completely and totally unsuitable for Gryffindors."

"Present company excluded, I agree with you." 

Just as Julie was agreeing to the collective awfulness of Slytherins in entirety, Draco Malfoy appeared with a parcel and a great big cage.

"Good afternoon, Granger-Snapes! Have you seen my new purchase yet?"

Hermione and Julie stared, shocked, at the huge green snake. Severus was delighted and crouched down to see.

"What a lovely color! Male or female?"

"Girlie."

"Favorite kind."

"She's called Nagaina. Would you like to pet her, Julie Snape?" Malfoy gave her his most malevolent grin as Hermione flinched in total fear of snakes.

Boldly Julie shrugged and Malfoy handed her the snake. Nagaina curled around her arm and made a hissing sound. Julie told her to calm down, but no words came out. She was surprised to see all three adults in total shock, as it was evident the snake had understood the girl.

"A Parssselmouth," the snake told Julie sibilantly. 

She was so surprised to have understood it, she nearly dropped the thing. 

"Sssorry, I ssurprissed you."

"Snakes can't talk," Julie said in Parseltongue to the green snake.

"Oh, yesss, to _you_ we can."

"Am I a Parselmouth?" she finally asked in English. 

Three terrified nods neatly answered her.

"Uh, go back in your cage, now, Nagaina."

"Thank you, misss." The snake obeyed and Malfoy clicked the door shut.

Suddenly Julie's hand hurt worse than it had ever felt. Regrowing bones was nothing compared to the searing pain. Her parents watched in terror as she clutched her palm. Malfoy pulled her hand away and forced her fist apart, just in time to see the scar lit up in glowing red. Julie turned away from him and bit down on the other hand. It was the best way that she knew to keep from crying out. Malfoy touched the scar and suddenly the light went out. It was lucky he was holding her hand, because in the next second he caught Julie as she passed out cold.

A/N: Sorry to be so obvious about what's going to happen next, but we all _knew_ the scar had something to do with Lord Voldemort!


	15. Family History

Chapter Fifteen: Family History

"Wha- where am I?" Groggily, Julie struggled to make the room stop spinning as she squinted and watched white figures swirl around. At her side was a familiar warmth, and her left hand was stretched out away from her. The warm presence brushed some errant hairs away from her face, gently tucking the bangs she had grown out behind her ears for her. "Wh- -what you are whom?" She was only waking up and far from lucid yet.

"Are you alright, Julie?"

"Sure, yeah, where the hell's this?"

"You're in the hospital."

"Why?"

"You passed out in Diagon Alley, you've been here four days."

_"Four days?"_ Suddenly Julie was wide-awake. "But the Quidditch game! Who's going to…what are you doing here?" It was Malfoy.

"_For_ days, not four days. Six."

"Oh, _tripe."_

"The game's been put off indefinitely, though, the Hufflepuffs didn't want to play with the Gryffindor Seeker gone."

"Tha' was nice of them," Julie observed almost drunkenly. "'Scept you're a Seeker, why didn' you jus' play the game then?"

"Uh…Julie, are you alright? I'm a teacher and my house was Slytherin."

"I _figured_ you would be a Slytherin…jus' logical. Are leather coats hot in California much?"

She had absolutely no idea who she was talking to, Draco realized, probably confusing him with someone he didn't know at all.  Actually, she had been like this for days, wandering in and out of consciousness confusedly. It wasn't the first time she'd asked him something entirely ridiculous.

"Julie, it's Malfoy. Do you recognize me?"

"Sort of, yeah." Her eyes cleared a little and she looked at him. "Was the snake offended?"

"I don't know. She seemed alright." It was very odd that Julie should be worried what his new pet thought of her passing out suddenly.

"That's good. I know I get very worried when somebody passes out."

"Your parents –and I- were really terrified."

"I was afraid of that. Where are they?"

"Bed. Your dad tried to stay up the first five days straight, and when your mum finally told him to get to bed, I made her go, too. They're both okay."

"So where are-"

"In their room at the Leaky Cauldron. It's only a couple blocks away and they can Apparate. Do you want me to get them?"

"Naw, that's quite alright. They need to sleep," Julie yawned. "Aren't you tired, too? It must be close to ten, now."

"Ten in the morning. Does your scar hurt?"

"Which?"

"On your left hand."

"Oh, that one. No, it feels quite nice and normal."

"You hungry?"

"Naw."

"You tired?"

"Just a little bit." She was yawning almost every several syllables.

"Then try to sleep."

Julie watched as Malfoy, still beside her, stretched out in a chair. Because of his height, it didn't suit well, and he looked stiff. "You don't know how tempted I am to join you there."

"You don't know how tempted _I_ am to kiss you once you get in here."

Malfoy stared at her, unable to believe his ears at what she had said. Julie was still looking at him, almost jokingly, and at the same time deadly serious.

"Are you okay?"

"I've told you twice, Malfoy; yes, I'm fine."

"But you just said-"

"I know I did. Are you still tired?"

"Yes, but you just-"

"I'm thoroughly aware of what I said, keenly aware of what happened with my scar, profoundly aware of what it probably means, and damned if I'm going to be the reincarnation of damned bloody fucking Voldemort. I also think you are one of the most disturbingly enigmatic, frighteningly likeable, and generally attractive men I've ever known. So what is your bloody problem?"

Malfoy was stunned into silence. Not only had Julie returned entirely to complete lucidity and consciousness, she had used the most fascinating combined vocabulary of obscenities and adjectives he had ever been so fortunate as to encounter in three sentences. Julie was still looking expectantly at him when they both burst into laughter at the utter ridiculousness of everything.

"Are you serious?" Malfoy asked her, still laughing.

"Of cousre I'm serious, why does everybody always-"

Malfoy stopped her from finishing the sentence with one of the most serious kisses he'd ever given. Julie, surprised, couldn't even try to back away.

At length they stopped, and for a few tense moments Malfoy was certain that she liked him as much as he did her. But then Julie grinned and it was clear she'd meant the whole thing as experiment:

"You really do fancy a student, then, don't you?"

She had him. Draco was very tempted to deny what he was feeling, as nobody caught a Malfoy in a trap, ever. But he realized Julie would never admit the truth of what she felt unless he did first. For a moment it was a bet between Slytherins -who was stronger, Snapes or Malfoys? 

The Snapes won.

"Yeah, I guess I sorta do."

Julie smiled and petted him on the head.

"Good to know, Professor. Good to know."

******************** 

"Julie?"

"Hey, Mum." Hermione ran to Julie's bedside, where she was sitting up playing one-handed solitaire.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Where's Dad?"

"Right here." Severus nervously moved over, holding a large book.

"Okay, that's good. Do you guys know what's wrong with me yet?"

"Well…the mark on your hand is a curse scar as we had feared. Apparently the wand failure didn't stop at least part of whatever the curse was from working, and you're reacting sort of like Harry did."

"I thought as much. Was the snake part of it?"

"We don't know, dear." Severus looked quietly angry, and it wasn't at his daughter. "You haven't used that hand at all, have you?"

"Not yet, Malfoy wouldn't let me."

The silent figure in the corner made a sound of assent.

"Thank you for staying with her, Draco," Hermione told him, quite remarkably using his first name.

"D'mentionit." He moved to go, putting a hand briefly on Julie's shoulder as he went in an unspoken sign of affection that he was certain she'd never return. Damn her age, her height, the way she talked! If only she acted fifteen, maybe-"

"Uh, by the way, Malfoy?" Julie asked, making him stop and turn in the doorway. She had one chance to say this and she'd better do it right. "What you said earlier…I feel the same way completely."

Malfoy leaned against the doorjamb and smiled oddly.

"A Gryffindor agrees with me?" His eyes met Julie's and they both smiled. "I kind of suspected you felt that way."

Before Severus and Hermione could realize what the gazes meant, Malfoy ducked out of the room and away. Julie laughed lightly as he disappeared.

"Quidditch?" her father asked.

"Sort of."

"I figured as much," Hermione observed. "It's Quidditch that keeps your father from killing my two friends, must be Quidditch to make you tolerate Malfoy."

"Oh, I can tolerate him, Mum, you know I can." Julì¥Á7             

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f dislike very moderately. In an ideal world he'd just kind of walk around at parties being handsome and when I didn't need him I could keep him in a cage."

That remark sent Snape over the edge. Hermione had already been giggling for quite some time, but the image of Malfoy on a hamster wheel was too much for her husband.

"It's a damn good thing you weren't that descriptive," he decided as Hermione struggled to regain her composure. "And you, Starcatcher, crushes on teachers are dead ends. It's all well and good to think them handsome, but they aren't at all good for a relationship."

"Yes, Daddy."

"And put that eyebrow down, you haven't the faintest clue how to use the thing."

Harry found the entire Granger-Snape family in a state of hysterical laughter as he entered the room with Ginny and the babies. Julie immediately brightened at the sight of her small honorary cousins, who were placed on the bed for her to talk to. The 'grown-ups' talked nondescriptively of what they had heard so far from the St. Mungo's doctors, while Julie pretended quite convincingly to not listen. After a few acid remarks in which it was made pointedly clear that Severus was overprotectively thinking the doctors inept gits for not finding out more sooner, plus a shrewd observation of this fact from Ginny, Julie turned full attention to the babies then. Aside from little Hermione's red hair and Lily's black, the green-eyed twin girls were almost identical. There were about four 'words' between them and a dreadful lot of cute sounds, and at seven-and-a-half months they could sit up quite well.

"So, how did you find flying, Lily?"

"Deh. Bbbrrrpth." The dark-haired twin blew a raspberry.

"I think so, too. How 'bout you, Hermione?"

Again, a similar reaction, but a sound from the toddler made Julie pause:

"Thpithhh…oo-lee?"

"Is that 'Julie'? Did you just say my name?" Little Hermione repeated the noise. "Oh, good girl, little coz!" Julie hugged the baby with her right arm, still not using her left because of the scar. Lily made the sound as well and touched Julie's cheek, also receiving a half-hug for her vocabulary.

"I was wondering when they'd do their new trick for you," Ginny observed, offering each baby a teething biscuit. "They've been saying a lot of words recently."

"Mum-mum!" Lily called, pointing to Ginny with the biscuit and looking at Julie. 

"Da-ah!" baby Hermione told her next, indicating a proud Uncle Harry.

"Can you say 'wingardium leviosa' yet?" Julie asked them, only to be given a blank stare and a spit bubble. "Don't worry, you'll learn -good heavens!"

Another wandless spell had the little Potter twins floating a hand's width over the coverlet. Julie caught little Hermione close with her good hand while Ginny picked up Lily and then put her back. The babies were elated if anything, happily cooing and making little sounds as their honorary cousin nearly dropped dead from the shock of it. Ginny smiled and reassured Julie some.

"They've been getting levitated quite a lot lately. Ron thinks it's funny when they float by."

"I didn't mean to do that."

"Wandless spells again?" Hermione senior asked concernedly, holding her daughter's wand in her own hand behind her back.

"Yeah, I was afraid it'd scare the babies, Mum."

"How long have you been doing wandless spells?" Severus asked, eyeing the star on his daughter's left palm again.

"A few weeks…first it was just summoning my broom and then the seam-rip one, now the levitation you just saw with the baby girls."

"Seam-rip?"

"A 'Ravelus Stiticus' six days ago," Julie's mother clarified.

"What happened?"

"A disaster."

"That's putting it mildly." Julie was a little afraid of her mother's describing it. "It was very much a bad scenario, Daddy, and not one I would choose to bore you with the gory details of."

"Her and Malfoy's clothes fell to pieces in the dormitory."

"Well, that's not that- _-what?!"_  
"Neither one of us saw anything innappropriate."

"That's not the point! It's –immoral!"

"And accidental! It's not like I stripped him naked to prance around for me."

"Now there's a gory detail," Ginny chipped in.

"Aren't you being just a little hypocritical about this?" Harry asked of Severus and Hermione.

"It's different!"

"I was seventeen!"

"And Sev was thirty-seven, Malfoy's thirty-three. They've actually got a better age difference than you two."

This observation delighted Julie considerably.

"Why, thank you, Aunt Ginny!"

"You shut your noise!" Severus barked. "I will not have you dating a teacher here."

"I wasn't going to, I just think Malfoy's sort of cute."

It hit Julie at that moment that it was the first time she'd told a lie to her parents. So she amended her statement rather playfully:

"True, I may like to date one sometime later, though."

"When Kenny Longbottom gets an 'A' on his Potions test," Severus challenged, to which Julie merely smiled and held out her hand.

"Deal."

"You've quite possibly guaranteed the boy tutoring, you realize that?" Harry tapped Sev's shoulder jokingly.

"He's as terrified of me as his father was."

"But you don't teach Potions now, don't you remember, dear?" Hermione gave her husband a nervous look.

Severus rolled his eyes heavenward and slapped his forehead in disgust at his bad memory.

"No changing the bet, Daddy, you know that."

"You're going to make him take you out just to tick me off."

"Probably, though it will be nice to see what it does to Matius Flint."

"Is he still bothering you?" Harry asked. Julie smiled 'no.'

"Actually, there's a note for you here from the Slytherin team," Hermione announced, offering Julie a bright green card.

"No undiluted bubotuber pus in this?" she asked cautiously, then opened the card with a nervous hand. It was quite normal for something writ by Slytherins, a series of odd little messages:

_Dear Julie,_

_Hope your scar gets better._

_-Alexei_

_Starcatcher,_

_Will they chop it off? We might win then._

_-L. Grudgett, Chaser_

_Dear Miss Snape,_

_Hope you come back soon all in one Seeking piece._

_-Matius Flint_

There were four other little notes scribbled in as well, one seeming to be a picture of a hatching snake, and Julie was suitably amused by it.

"That's unusually civil. Who just poisoned them?"

"Here's the Gryffindors' one." Severus gave her the other, which was red.

"Why didn't they send it through Mum?"

"I don't know."

"The Slytherins probably didn't want your Dad to see."

The card from the Lions was more succinct:

_Dear Julie,_

_We've decided not to play any tricks 'til you return._

"Good lord!"

_We're just kidding._

_-Tim and Tom, your older-cousin types_

_Dear Julie, _

_Don't die please. We have to play._

_-Mack_

_Starcatcher,_

_Practice inside your mind. We need every extra second to beat Hufflepuff. Get better too and don't eat any Weasley treats._

_-Aldous Howard, Chaser_

_Only-girl-here,_

_Don't forget me while you're there._

_-Donaghan_

_Cherry-Nailer,_

_Bulstrode needed hitting twice._

_-Kev Wood_

_P.S. We handled it decently._

At the bottom was a drawing of a Golden Snitch. Most of the notes were amusing, true, but Donaghan's made Julie feel a little strange. Going by the way his was off on the left side he had written last, probably to avoid the others seeing it. Did he still like her? This grew more confusing by the day.

And speaking of days, hadn't six passed since she last saw the Weasley boys? Her room was probably booby-trapped to the point of instability, and it was quite likely owls would pelt her the first day back. The cousins had a knack for sending hundred-piece puzzles in separate envelopes, a trick her father did not appreciate but found funny when it happened to Julie once. Chloe probably missed her quite terribly.

"When do I get to go back to school?"

"Tomorrow, according to the incompetents that work here." Severus gave the absent doctors a Snape sneer and shook his fist unobtrusively in disgust.

"I've brought a book I can read to you," Malfoy drawled, ambling in as if expected entirely. "Not sure the small Potters'll like it, though."

Lily and baby Hermione looked at him and gave him wide baby smiles. The aloof expression slowly melted into silliness as he wiggled his ears to the girls' delight. Julie was on the verge of hysterical laughter when Malfy turned to her with a completely straight face and asked what was funny, ears still twitching. 

She forgot about Donaghan's note right then.

******************** 

"What book is it?"

"The Malfoy Family's history."

"Oh. Otherwise known as the Pureblood Guide to Snobbery."

Malfoy and Julie were alone as the Snapes got dinner. Draco shook his head.

"Nah, that's my mother's old etiquette manual."

"Do all wizard families have histories?"

"Any family with a female who has lots of time to write it down. My Great-great Aunt Mildred began the book."

"Was she funny?"

"Very much so, she wrote lovely jokes. A pity most of them have fallen out of context now. This is my Great-great-grandfather Draconius." Malfoy pointed out a picture.

"Are you named for him?"

"Sort of, yeah. He attempted to domesticate the Orc in an effort to procure a better gardener."

"Was he killed?"

"No, just smelled very bad after."

"I didn't even realize there were really Orcs."

"There are, just not a lot of them. They don't mate much."

"I've heard their mating habits are quite violent."

"My Great-great-grandmother would probably agree with you. We Malfoys tend to gather inspiration much."

"That isn't reassuring."

"I like rabbits more."

"Neither is that."

"How 'bout fairies?"

"Decidedly not."

"What animal do you think is fascinating?"

"Ferrets and white mice and dwarf dragons."

"Oh, snuggly ones."

"And just a little fire as well."

"Are you implying something, Starcatcher?"

"Are you, Malfoy?"

"Look, now that we both know that we…well, could we maybe set some boundaries or rules on things?"

"I don't believe in rules. They complicate creative things."

"It's only to keep us from getting _too_ creative too fast."

"How creative are you?" Julie asked him almost nastily.

"I'm not sure how educated Muggles are, but this is one wizard with good ideas and time to spare for trying out."

For some reason, this simple declaration made Julie blush quite prettily.

"So do you want a list of boundaries that I make up?"

"No shagging. Is there anything you'd like to add?"

"Not really, but some things may come up later on. Are rules subject to addition or revision now?"

"Of course."

"I feel like the Geneva Convention here."

"The what?"

"It's a treaty that ended a Muggle war."

"Oh. Well, can I kiss you?"

"One more rule?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to ask."

A/N: Okay, does that satisfy everybody's need for reassurance and wizard-snogging? (The next Olympic sport, I think, that'd be nice.) Thank you for all the lovely reviews, it's what keeps me writing even as my fingers split and bleed. It should be a day at least before I get the next one up, as I've blistered my thumb beyond tolerance on my guitar strings. _(Again.)_ Damn calluses refuse to stay on, y'know? So here I type in band-aids. Cheerio!


	16. Julie's First Day Back

A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! I actually got into fanfiction because a friend told me about her 'guilty pleasure' there...so here I am, the odd disciple in the H/S cult. (Attn: I don't own this all! J.K. does!) Everyone was so concerned after I mentioned my fingers hurt from guitar, that this chapter has been partially typed by Xander and Kylie McNeville for me. My dear siblings type dictation quite well, you know...Kylie's a so-far-unpublished HP nut on fanfiction, and Xander's writing poetry for when he goes on. He's also the resident _Buffy_ nut. As a matter of fact, he inspired part of this chapter as follows here:

"Jannie, if Spike fought Christian, who d'you think'd win?"

"Who?"

"Spike from _Buffy_ and Christian from _Moulin Rouge_."

"Hmm...James Marsters vs. Ewan McGregor...hmmm." It was a delicious little thought, to say the least of things.

"Oh, don't be getting that freaky lustful look on your face-"

"Do you think they might burst into song once or twice."

"Well, in the musical, Spike sings real well- I d'know."

And that is why the Weasley twins misbehaved. Here you go.

Chapter Sixteen: Julie's First Day Back

"Have you got the spores?"

"Pipe down, coz, I'm coming," Tom Weasley puffed. He and his cousin were alone in the Common Room, and Tom had just been raiding one of the greenhouses for Symphon Spores. "These ruddy things stink like a box of feet!"

"I got them last time, it was your turn to-"

"Never mind." Tom added precisely five spores to the cauldron there. "Julie's going to love it if this goes right."

"And if it doesn't?"

"She might still find it funny, then."

"Are you sure that Uncle Ron said she's ticked at 'Fessor Pureblood though? 'Cause if she's really ticked at Donaghan. she won't like this."

"I know! We'll give him some, too, then they'll both-" A noise silenced Tom for a few seconds. "-you know."

"She'll find it funny either way!"

"_You_ don't like Julie?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like _like_ like her, more than our coz, y'know?"

"I don't think so... Do _you_ like her?"

"Not like that."

For a moment the cousins looked at the cauldron, unable to look into each other's eyes.

"She's gonna love it when that Malfoy git starts to-"

"Shh!"

Another creak of the stairs left them whispering.

*************************** 

Julie walked into the Great Hall the next morning, having returned from St. Mungo's the preceding night. Two identical mischievous grins moved apart for her to take a seat between them at the Gryffindor table for breakfast of eggs and grits.

"They've served us Muggle cereal, Jules, look at this!" Tim pointed to the white grits disgustedly.

"'Zat grits?" She tasted the white stuff and smiled at them. "It's an American thing we used to eat on holidays."

The Weasleys watched Julie actually eat some grits, matching looks of abject horror and revulsion there.

"What is it?"

"Cracked hominy...some kind of corn. Put pancake syrup on if you're not used to it."

They followed her orders and found grits improved considerably.

"I don't mean to rag on your favorite food, but this does taste like sand without syrup on."

"Who told the house-elves to make this American stuff?"

Julie smiled inwardly, noting several other Gryffindors were puzzled, too, and not a Slytherin but Alexei was eating it. Some Ravenclaws had figured out the syrup trick, whilst some Hufflepuffs just crunched it uncomplainingly. She also recalled a long discussion of favorite foods, and noted Malfoy was liking his very much. Her father and mother were giggling at some odd joke, probably a crack about what they thought it reminded them of, _not_ that she liked to think of what they joked about; and professor McGonagall looked quite amused by everyone. Hagrid had gotten some in his beard. All in all, she decided she'd have to talk to Malfoy about 'tampering.' The winks and eyebrows he was sending her proved her suspicions about why they all were eating grits.

"Doesn' this Muggle food taste sorta funny, Julie-girl?" Donaghan asked, lifting grits with spoon and watching them slurp off. "I've never 'ad it, but if this is what it's s'posed to be-"

"It's meant to taste like this, but maple syrup helps a bit." Julie passed him the bottle and he smiled at her. 'Oh, damn,' she thought, noticing the longing gaze. 'I am such a damnable git for not catching this!'

"Catchin' what?" he asked. She had thought out loud again-drat! Hastily she made up a clever lie.

"This syrup I've got on my cuff right here. I mean, I'm a Seeker, you would think I'd catch a drip at least!" The Weasleys and Donaghan laughed at the hasty joke, oblivious to how she'd made it up too fast.

"I noticed y'look very different now," Donaghan said, looking at the uniform. "It suits y', and the Gryffindor lion's nice."

"I think she looks a bit leggy, though," Mack chipped in. "If you'll pardon my saying so, you look great."

"Oh, perfect, Mack, just flirt your little eyes out!" Tom chided.

"Yeah, next time you can tell her that she's got nice-" SMACK!

"I'm sorry, Julie," Donaghan apologized, "he needed that."

"It's alright, you don't need to defend me, Donaghan."

Donaghan sighed quietly and nodded with a friendly smile. He had hoped Julie would like him to protect her still, but maybe smacking her 'cousin' had been a bad move at first. 

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"That's okay." Tim was smiling bright as morning sun. The whole series of cracks had been designed to make Donaghan look away, giving Mack the co-conspirator the chance to spike his pumpkin juice quite royally. Having him burst into song was worth many smacks.

"Were you people always this chipper before I left?" Julie thought she detected a note of false cheerfulness.

"D'know, aren't hospitals so boring that we seem giddy?"

"I suppose, although I slept so much I don't recall."

"Didn't anything interesting happen?"

"Read any books?" Donaghan tried to appeal to the bookworm half of Julie's mind.

"Well, Malfoy read to me a lot of-" she stopped, frozen cold.

"_Who_ read to you?" Tim asked.

"Um, er- Malfoy did." Julie was blushing rather furiously.

"Not '_Professor_ Malfoy' or 'professor pureblood,' Jules?" Aldous knew she didn't really take to 'purebloods' much.

"Well, uh, he is my parents' friend, so I just call him- -not in class. It's like our Uncle Harry after Quidditch games."

"Oh." Tom sounded entirely unconvinced. "So he read you a book about-?"

"Oh, lots of stuff, you might not find it interesting."

"Naw, tell us." Donaghan hoped to make her smile again.

"Well...there was a story about a man who tried to tame an Orc."

"Was he eaten?"

"I don't think so, just smelled very bad after and gave up meat."

"That's funny, though I'd like an Orc for a bodyguard."

"Do you need one? You're a Gryffindor; my friend as well." Julie didn't like Aldous thinking he was all alone.

"Not like that, just to intimidate, and pick up rocks."

"Rocks?"

"Yeah, whenever someone bothered me, he'd bring a rock, like a great big boulder and just put it there. And then I'd have him say something like, 'Drop on head?' like he wanted to know if I wanted the person squashed."

"That sounds like a very nice idea, Aldous. I think that'd work on Lester Bulstrode quite impressively."

"And if worse comes to worse you could just borrow Flint."

The Gryffindors laughed amid scattered glares at the Slytherins' Seeker. The boys were still very ticked about the episode with Julie's teeth.

"So, will I see you in the library?" Aldous asked. Julie nodded, but the Weasleys rolled their eyes at her.

"Got to recharge the batteries like Mum, no doubt."

"Hey!"

"You do not rag on my parents," Julie said softly. 

"Sorry."

As Tom got up he saw the knife beside his neck.

"Geez, Julie," Donaghan said in awe as she reclasped the switchblade and returned it to its' hiding place.

"I am so sorry Julie-"

"Naw, it's alright." She gave Tom a perfectly normal smile then. "I made my point -no pun intended- you're okay."

"You almost put a knife through my cousin's head!" Tim whispered in a mix of awe and terror at what she'd almost done.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you if-"

"He could've died!"

"I really wouldn't have hurt him, it was-"

"Julie-girl, you did get that knife out too fast," Donaghan was trying his best not to offend her, but it was too much. "If y're worried about gettin' jumped again, I'll watch for you."

"No, Donaghan, I'm alright, it's not 'cause of Flint. I've carried a knife since I was quite young, it's just what I do."

"Jules, if that had been a wand, you would have cursed him dead."

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to give you all a scare like that." 

"Could y' maybe not use that knife in school, y'know?" Donaghan asked. "I mean, y' could hurt y'reself, or someone else-"

"Alright, Captain." Julie handed the switchblade to Donaghan, then giggled nervously as she sat back down again. "It's been so long since I've not carried one, I feel...do you know when you take off your clothes sometimes, like you're completely helpless, that's kind of how it feels when-" She just ranted on. Without the blade, young Julie was hysterical, manically chattering impossibly.

"Julie?" She didn't stop. "Julie!" Donaghan tapped her. "Take this knife back, we have got to see your dad 'bout this."

"Okay, Donaghan, good idea, very nice-"

Before they could get to Professor Snape, Professor Malfoy greeted Julie with an unusual smile.

"Good morning, Starcatcher."

"'Allo, Malfoy."

"Hello, Professor Malfoy," Donaghan started. Were he and Julie really being civil now? "Julie and I were just going to talk to Professor Snape."

"Oh. Well, Sev's in a meeting with the Headmistress right now -if I could borrow Julie for a moment..."

"Oh, sure. Be right back, Donaghan." Julie went off with Malfoy toward the library.

For a moment Donaghan was certain she would be back soon. But then something about the way Malfoy had looked at her stuck in his mind and made him think about her parents' age difference. Could that possibly be the reason why she had left him? Jealousy and worry about Julie welled up so fast he didn't stop to think that hard. He hurried to the library to check on her.

"Hey, Donaghan!" she called. "Come see what Malfoy's got."

The captain found himself looking at a long green snake that seemed to be sunning itself curled around Julie's neck. Malfoy was offering it a lump of meat while Julie talked to it- -in Parseltongue. His jaw dropped to about his feet.

"What's she say?"

"The meat is too cold. Could you warm it up?"

Obediently Malfoy pointed a wand at the meat and used the _Thermos_ charm, after which the green snake ate the meat quite whole. Donaghan noticed the library was void of all but Slytherins save Julie and himself.

"Yeh're a Parselmouth, Julie?"

"Yeah, just found out. Malfoy couldn't get Nagaina to eat her breakfast, so I came up here to translate what she wanted him to do with it."

"Would you like to hold her?" Malfoy offered, holding up the snake. Donaghan swallowed his nerves and nodded. "Just support her coils."

"She's after bein a girl snake, then?"

"Yeah, gentler. Nagaina's a good lady, aren't you, sweetie-snake?" Malfoy tickled the snake underneath her chin. She hissed at Julie who laughed sort of hard and hissed right back.

"Well, what'd she say, Jules?"

"She thinks you look a little silly when you do that, but the tickling is a good thing that she likes a lot."

"Then why did you laugh so much?" Malfoy asked.

"It won't translate." Julie smiled obnoxiously at her teacher.

Donaghan couldn't believe she was doing this. Flirting with a teacher just to mess with...whom? What if the performance wasn't directed at him at all, but an effort to lure on a Slytherin? Was it Alexei?

The Durmstrang transfer slouched over to them.

"Could I see ze snake vhen you are done, Don-again?"

"It's 'Donaghan,' Alex, you don't pronounce the 'g' in it." Julie corrected his pronunciation too quickly. Judging by the way Julie's wrist went to her belt and Alexei flinched away, Donaghan gathered she'd have pulled the knife.

"I am zorry."

"Tha's alright, man, just a language thing." Distractedly Donaghan handed Nagaina to him and turned toward Professor Malfoy again. "Tha's a right lovely snake yeh've got there, 'Fessor."

"Oh, thanks, McPhersen, I just bought her last Saturday."

"Was Julie with yeh?"

"No, she was off with her folks and then I met them afterward."

"Then this is _that_ snake, the one that made 'er scar go odd?"

"Mm-hm."

"Well, don't y'think it's bad to let 'er 'old it, then?"

Malfoy gave the McPhersen boy a calculating look.

"You're one of Julie's friends from Gryffindor -the Quidditch team?"

"I'm Chaser and the captain for this year, sir, yeah."

Instantly Malfoy knew why he was worried about Julie so. This was the boy she had been seeing once. They were still friends, he remembered her telling him, and for a second he was glad the boy protected her. But then another of Julie's biting remarks surfaced in his memory; when he had asked her if she'd ever shagged a Muggle she had only denied any _Muggle_ guys. His suspicion of Donaghan trebled there.

"Oh. I myself was a Seeker in my school days here. Tell me, are the practices still every night for Gryffindor?"

"Pretty much, sir, why're y' wond'rin'?"

"I was just curious."

Donaghan knew he didn't trust the Slytherin a metric inch.

"Well, we're trainin' for our match agains' Hufflepuff. Slytherin lost to us in nineteen seconds, last."

"I heard Julie did well in that match for you. How's the arm?"

"It's quite well."

"Good. I'm sure you'll need it soon."

"I us'lly do."

There was a tense second where either of the guys might have hit the other hard.

"Did you date Julie long?"

"What makes y' say I ever did?"

"Word gets around."

"We're friends still, if y' wondered, broke qui' ami'bly"

"I gathered that from the fact she still talks to you."

"Really? I'm astounded she talks t' you so much."

"Are you implying something, McPhersen?"

"Nothin' odd, professor, jus' that yeh're a Slytherin."

Suddenly Julie turned back to both of them with an odd look.

"Talking Quidditch?"

"Naw, Julie, jus' a bit o' friendly chat."

"Yes, this young _friend_ of yours seems really quite an okay chap. Do hope he isn't injured in tomorrow's match," Malfoy drawled with a very Snape-ish leer.

"An' y're Professor seems a very cheerful snake-lover."

Julie was a little unnerved but more amused by this development. Hastily she changed the subject:

"Professor Malfoy, when does Dad's meeting end, d'you know?"

"I'm not sure, it's about curriculum, could take hours."

"Oh, cripes. Donaghan, do you think that we could tell him 'bout this later, then? I've really got some studying to get done with."

"Alrigh', Julie, I'll see y' at practice, then." 

"Farewell, _Captain_."

"'Bye, _professor_," Donaghan responded a little abruptly, turning quickly to kiss Julie's cheek. "See y' later, only-girl-here," he said quietly.

Julie looked at Malfoy bewilderedly after Donaghan left the room.

"Could you meet me in the dungeon?" she asked almost silently.

"Five minutes," Malfoy mouthed back, trying not to be noticed by the students there. Julie pretended to pick up and read a book while he collected his snake and put her in the cage. After most of the Slytherins had followed Malfoy out of there, Julie left and headed for the ex-Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts hall. There was a painting of Bodrick the Unmusical on the left wall, and Julie waved at him as if he were a real person. The painted goblin put down the guitar with tangled strings and waved at Julie, too. 

"What's the password, Malf- -girl?"

"'E flat power chord.'"

"Right. But why are you going into Malfoy's rooms?"

"I have an assignment that I need to talk to him about."

"Oh. Okay." The goblin went back to blistering his fret fingers, after swinging aside to let Julie into Malfoy's rooms. He had assured her that poor Bodrick wasn't very smart, and as long as she changed her appearance or accent slightly each time she came, the goblin wouldn't know it was the same girl twice. Julie thought the guitarist goblin seemed an okay sort, although considering the bloodstains on his guitar's neck, she was very glad the paintings couldn't make loud noise.

She stepped into an entirely dark sitting room, and as it was her first time there she couldn't tell whether there were chairs or not. Rather than risk tripping and breaking her neck in there, Julie stood silently, waiting for the dark to change.

Before there was so much as a flicker from the other side, the blackness enveloped her and kissed her with familiar touch. It was Malfoy. She kissed him back fervently.

"Why's it so dark in here?"

"I haven't put the lights on yet."

They laughed briefly and Julie felt him stroke her hair. She could also tell he was uncertain about something then.

__

"Lumos," she said, lighting up her wand. In the dim light of the glowing fire she saw his face. "What do you want to ask me?"

"What's with you and McPhersen?"

They had decided that in serious matters they couldn't waste words in spite. It was one of the few 'rules' that Julie really planned to follow much. So she answered him.

"We dated for a few weeks in mid-September, dear. I got bored with the way he was treating me and told him I would rather just be friends."

"Was he hurting you?"

"The opposite. We only kissed." Julie felt herself blushing from what that implied. She also noticed Malfoy smiling, with some slight relief.

"So you were after someone tougher?"

"Or more interesting."

"So what's his deal? He looked like I was a threat to his favorite girl."

"Aren't you?" Julie joked, and Malfoy grinned at her. "Seriously, I think he might still fancy me."

"I don't mind competition."

"Didn't think you did. Just don't get too over-confident, you might be wrong."

"I wasn't wrong when I suspected that you'd never shagged."

"Are you? You don't know that for certain, now."

"I think I do. You said you'd never banged a Muggle guy. And if you and the Scotsman only kissed, you haven't had the time."

"I'm partly Slytherin, and you know we tend to lie."

"You weren't lying."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, come and bang me then."

Julie called his bluff.

"Alright." She stroked his chest. Malfoy found himself being almost forcibly moved toward the bedroom door, Julie's wand tucked over one ear like she might a pen. She undid the catch on his robes and they slid right off, showing a satin shirt of the kind her father liked to wear. Malfoy had no chance to protest before she started unbuttoning it, kissing him fiercely as if she didn't want him to escape.

"Are you still convinced?" she asked a little teasingly.

"Of course. You're only trying to change my mind."

"Damn it," she capitulated. "You _are_ right."

"Was it so hard to admit that?"

"Yes, of course it was."

"You don't like being made to give up, do you, Jules?"

__

"'Jules'?"

"I heard one of the Gryffindors call you that."

"Obviously." She gave him a look of complete surprise.

"Do you not like being called that?"

"Not by you, at least." Julie petted him on the head. "It's kind of a guy's name and the Quidditch players call me that. I'm a completely different person now, alone with you."

Malfoy smiled and snapped his fingers. Several lamps went on.

"So you're a different person when you're with me -that sounds right." He slouched lazily onto the leather couch, taking the younger girl down with him. "You're all feminine and not quite such a bitch with me."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, admit it, you're a flaming shrew."

"Only if you admit that you're a pureblood snob."

"What makes you say that I'm-"

"You've never walked more than eight miles straight before. Your hands are softer than mine and better manicured. You've also probably never starved because of budget cuts, never split a cup of coffee with two other kids, and definitely never been without a sack of gold. The signs are all over you; pureblood snob."

"So my family was rich. I couldn't help that, Jule."

"_That_ name I like better. You didn't have to treat the poorer kids like dirt."

"Until I was your age I had always been told that they _were_ dirt. You can't fault my upbringing unless I fault yours, Julie."

"How can you?"

"You've been taught to live on nothing straight and still like it. Anyone tries to talk to you the wrong way and you pull a knife. You're a thistle on defensive with a trust problem. Did you leave McPhersen because you were bored or because he got close to you? You haven't even called me by my first name yet!"

The last two lines struck Julie like two leather whips. Quietly she straightened and her face grew stiff. Malfoy realized he had hurt her and immediately stopped.

"Julie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Yes, you did, Malfoy." She stood up silently and tucked her wand back in her robes. "I also hate to admit it, but I think you're right."

"Julie, what I said was mean. Don't go because-"

"I said the same mean things to you. And I am a shrew. I do pull knives on friends sometimes. I probably did leave him because he got close to me. And I won't use your name because it puts me close to you."

"You don't want that?"

"I'm afraid of what you'll do to me!"

Julie all but ran to the door, but Malfoy pulled her back. She tried to struggle against what sort of felt like arms, only to realize he had levitated her by wand. Silently he drew her back onto the couch, as she glared at him with all her might and didn't move.

"I will not hurt you even if you tell me to."

"Malfoy, you already have. I'm starting...to like you." She couldn't say what she was afraid the real term was.

"I already like you and I'd like you close to me."

"So I can lose you?"

"I'm not going to die like your brother did. You see, I know he was your brother in a dire sense. I know you're scared to trust your friends with any more of you than they could pick up in a talk about something else. You didn't even tell your parents 'til they knocked you out."

"I didn't know they were my parents when they did the charm."

"And yet you trusted them. If you hadn't you wouldn't know." Julie had not realized this and Malfoy stroked her hair gently. "I'm asking you to trust me with a bit of you. Not everything, just tell me what you're feeling now. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone, and I don't want you to be scared to show yourself to me."

Julie was silent, considering what he'd said. Finally she whispered:

"I like you a lot."

That was enough. He held her for a long time there.

*********************** 

"Draco, wake up. It's nearly twelve o'clock."

"What'd you call me?"

"Uh...your name?" Julie asked a little nervously.

"I thought that was what I heard. So you _can_ say my name."

"It was a matter of inclination and I'm tipping fast."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm becoming more inclined to your point of view. To incline is also to tilt, and so I'm tipping fast."

"Mother's side. You play with words like child's blocks."

"Precisely."

Julie kissed Malfoy gently on the lips again.

"What do you imagine they would think of this?" he asked her, meaning her parents, especially the father side.

"Dad might get used to it if he thought it was just intellectual, and Mum already seems to think you're just a Lockhart case."

"How's that?"

"You're just a guy that I find dishy and it's going to pass."

"I'm lots different from Lockhart, as I hope you know."

"I do. I 'magine Dad might find everything except our ages to be good, and Mum will find just ages and your being a Slytherin wrong."

"Would you be frightened if I told you that I hope this lasts?"

"Not really- -how long?"

"I don't know. I want to see what you grow up into."

"I was sort of wondering what you were like as a kid."

"If this does last, will you promise not to break my heart?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I seem to think I found some pieces of a Scottish one."

"Oh, dear. I was afraid that he was lying when we broke it off."

"He will get over it. At his age, guys bounce back like they had rubber souls."

"But if I hurt him-"

"Sure you hurt him. He'll get over it. I'm not trying to sound jealous, but I sort of am," Malfoy confessed a little sheepishly. "And I was that age once-"

"Sixteen years ago."

"Do you mind that I'm so much older?"

"No, I find you nice." Julie leaned on his chest like a firm pillow. "You aren't such a git as the boys my age are. That and you're also done with growing and the hormone thing."

"So you're alright that I'll be fifty when you're thirty-two?"

"I doubt I'll live that long, but yeah, I'm fine with that."

"I think you'll live to have two kids and graying hair."

"Mum says hair doesn't gray in our family and I'm sorry, but I don't take reproduction well."

"You don't want to have kids?"

"Not now, and probably not until I'm fairly old."

"By old do you mean my age?"

"I mean twenty-nine. You know how old that seems when you're still fifteen, right?"

"When I was your age I thought I would live to maybe twenty-two. Of course, the situation with the Dark Lord changed my fear of death, especially after I wasn't expected to be a Death Eater anymore."

"When your dad died?"

"Yeah, and mum told me she'd spied so much. She's really brave."

"I've heard from lots of people that she did a lot."

"She personally led Aurors straight to Voldemort."

"I guess that qualifies as a lot. You must be proud of her."

"Definitely. I'm also proud of working with your dad so much, you know he was the first one to curse the Dark Lord down?"

"Really? Dad?"

"Can't you see him taking House points off of anyone? Voldemort was supposed to be afraid of two people: Albus Dumbledore and your dad. Dumbledore because, well, he's Dumbledore, and your dad because he changed sides and still knew the Dark."

"He knew about every trick that they could throw at him?"

"Exactly. He scared me a lot as a kid, too."

"I thought he favored the Slytherins."

"In public, yes. But the instant we were back in the dungeon, he used to tongue-lash us worse than you would believe. He only stopped from taking points off to beat McGonagall. You know that they compete a lot between Houses still?"

"Considering how she exulted over me beating the Slytherins, I could tell that she liked seeing Dad torn in half."

"Julie, _I_ would like to watch your father at that game." Malfoy kissed her on the cheek. "But do you have to win?"

"I'm part Slytherin. I love to win like nothing else."

"Well, you're winning my heart faster than you know."

"Draco, that's one of the singularly most romantic things you've ever said." Julie kissed him long and well before they stopped to breathe.

"But who needs English when you say something like _that_, m'girl?"

*********************** 

"It hasn't worked, Tim. He's still studying over there."

"Maybe nothing's inspired him today so far."

"No, he'd have done something, considering Julie's left."

"Are you sure you got the right kind of spores?"

"I think."

"Spores?" Professor Longbottom asked cheerfully.

"Oh, yeah, we're, uh...doing a project, sir."

"Perhaps you'd like to see the new ones I got last night; Tryphon Spores, they increase hormonal elements."

The Weasly boys froze.

"What do they look like?"

"Green, and they smell like a moldy boot. I'll be in Greenhouse Four if you'd like to see."

The instant the professor was gone, Tim slapped Tom upside the head.

"You idiot!"


	17. A Profoundly Wrong Choice

A/N: Enfleurage's completely right. See her flaming but good review to explain this.

Chapter Seventeen: Not the Wisest Choice

"Why do you want to take it all of a sudden, now?"

Severus hadn't spoken to Hermione that way since she was his student -cold, harsh, and decidedly unsympathetic in any way. She flinched and replied nervously:

"Her scar- -I thought-'

"You thought that you might as well find out why our daughter's scar is worse than Harry's ever was?"

Hermione knew that Severus's calling Harry by his first name usually meant that he was in a good mood, but he was speaking in such an accusing tone, she knew he had to be angry with her somehow.

"Severus, why are you-"

"Why are _you_ trying to fix your mistakes too late?" Severus gave his wife a look of abject hatred then. "I've had three months with my daughter in fifteen years; she says and does things I don't and can't understand because she didn't grow up with me. She's afraid to talk to us when she needs new clothes, even, because she grew up in a Muggle hell like Voldemort!"

"Are you saying it's my fault?"

"You're swift today!"

Almost the instant Severus said it, he wished he had not. Hermione didn't have the weakness to burst into tears; she just turned away from him and left as quickly as she could. The way her retreating form left the dungeon completely reminded him of her sixteen years ago, and he knew instantly why she didn't take the test.

There were memories in her mind that would have hurt him then. Had she agreed to Dumbledore's suggestion of a memory test, it would have had him fired if not even sent to Azkaban. And even if Dumbledore hadn't found out how their relationship started out, the fact that she had been sleeping for several months in a teacher's bed would certainly have been enough to ruin them both.

He knew it would have been bad for her, but even worse for him.

He also knew she knew back then how they'd react.

A momentary flash of memory struck him: an afternoon several weeks ago when Julie had not been on the Quidditch field. He had found her in the library with her mother, studying like two versions of the same. Leaning on their right and left elbows, absently turning pages with their left and right hands, which held their quills lazily, there could have been a mirror between them and he wouldn't know. Even with his daughter's dark hair and the nose his father'd given them, Julie and Hermione were quite alike. When he had cleared his throat they looked surprised the same way, and Severus wished he'd had a camera at that moment to see again their matching eyes- -like clear amber cinnamon in duplicate.

Hermione had lost just as much as he.

******************** 

With Halloween the next day, the man in the black cloak had to move quickly. There were many things to do before midnight tomorrow night, the one night when the dead could truly rise again.

In necromantic sorcery, that was to say.

The man had never been much good with wizardry, but sorcery was easier to one with lesser magical gifts. His arms were filled with a great sack of bones he'd brought, dug up from the cemetery just that day. In the Forbidden Forest outside Hogwarts, he put his sack down. But he could not pause to even rest a little bit. The man drew a nail from his pocket and a long red string. Tying string to nail, pounding nail into ground, and walking a circle around the nail by dragging his left foot took him only ten minutes to accomplish. Next he broke each bone in two and pounded them into the circle's edge, in pairs creating lines across the diameter. Using a Muggle protractor to make sure he had the angles right, he marked the lines to make a pentagram with ground bone dust. His Master would return tomorrow if all things went right.

That thought made Peter nervous, and his white hand twitched.

******************* 

"Dress robes," Julie sighed apprehensively. She was not looking forward to taming her bushy hair, and her mother was nowhere to be found to help her with it. Well, she wouldn't have to be ready until six that night, so she got dressed in her patch shirt and worn-out jeans. A knock on her door made her jump in surprise.

"Julie?"

It was Chloe. Thank Merlin for small favors.

"Come on in, I've just finished getting dressed."

The little first-year entered with the easily indentifiable look of someone with interesting news that they want to be asked about. Julie grinned.

"Well?"

"JuliedidyouseeDonaghanhelookssocute?" Chloe inquired at hyperspeed.

"Uh… excuse me?"

"The Weasleys gave Donaghan a bad potion, he's grown sideburns and his hair's down to there in back!" Chloe tried to indicate hair as long as her own.

"What?" Julie asked in amusement. "How?"

"I don't know, but he's _dishy_. You've got to see!"

Had it been anyone but Chloe, Julie would have sighed and made some excuse to hold off looking. But she was not one to disappoint her young friend, knowing that the eleven-year-old valued her company very much. Sigh. 

She followed Chloe to the Common Room and there stopped cold.

_'Damn,"_ she thought, looking at Donaghan. When a girl who has grown up in France says that someone is dishy, they do not mean they look mildly handsome or usual. Donaghan had turned into what the Muggle girls Julie knew called a total fox- -which, with the reddish hair, he might have been. The typical shoolboy haircut had grown out fast, and he now had it tied in a ponytail. The sides of his face had grown sideburns, too, almost as long as some of vintage rock's dishiest. Julie bit her lip and wished she were invisible, as a look of total lust tended to unnerve guys a little bit, but it was too late. Her Captain had noticed her.

"Oh, Julie, I was hopin' to see y' here!"

She felt her cheeks redden a little more.

"I 've managed to shave off this bloody beard at least, but could you help me fix this hair, it's as long as yours." Donaghan shook the ponytail in disgust, and Julie wondered if it was soft as his short hair was.

"Er- fix it? It looks okay to me-"

"I mean, cut it off."

How did he know she could cut guys' hair? The only time in years she had done it-

Those damn Weasleys.

"Tim and Tom said you trimmed theirs last week, thought you could…" Donaghan trailed off, seeing that Julie had expected they would tell him. "If you're busy, I'm sure I could-"

"Oh, that's alright." 

Julie didn't know why she'd agreed to help. Cutting hair like that was like profaning a monument. Having gotten out her scissors, she told him this.

"A monument to scruffiness," the Scot answered.

"No, it looks really good, haven't you looked yet?"

"I look like Tim and Tom's uncle."

"Well, sort of, yeah. But who said that's a bad thing?"

"Their grandmother."

"I think you look nice with it," Chloe chipped in. 

For some reason Julie had asked her to come and assist them in the Prefect's bathroom down the hall. It wasn't so much she needed someone to help with the haircutting, but she didn't think she could handle talking to _that_ alone. The suddenly-lust-object Donaghan was sitting with a towel around his neck, looking even dishier than ever now.

"Are y' sure I don' look like a total scruff?"

"Believe me, it's lovely. Hair looks good long."

Donaghan appeared to consider Julie's word.

'Okay, shallow much?' Julie thought distressedly. 'I must sound like I'm totally gone for him- -and I'm not! Not, not, _not_ going to fall for him.'

Well, could y' even it out and maybe clean it up? The one part's longer than the other for some reason."

"Okay. Do you want me to just shampoo it and trim the ends?"

"Whatever y' think best, only-girl."

'If he calls me that again, I may slit his throat,' Julie thought, putting her scissors down sharply. ((A/N: Sorry! A wretched pun!)) Hastily she looked over the products available, finally selecting a shampoo that smelled lightly of strawberries. She would normally have much preferred the coconut, but she didn't think she could stand whatthat particular smell might do to her. Did coconut make others horny much? For some reason it had had that odd effect on her ever since she-

Oh, damn. His shirt was off. Damn, damn, damn.

"I though' it would be easier if'n y' didn' have t' worry 'bout getting' m'shirt all wet."

Damn!

"Okay, lean your head over here."

As quickly and efficiently as she could with her eyes shut tight, Julie soaked Donaghan's long hair in the prefects' sink. Chloe brought him a chair, (drat her,) and he sat down, neck on the side of the sink, with his hair quite drenched. The sink had not been designed for the purpose, and Julie found herself wondering why he didn't just shampoo his own damn hair in the shower and let her cut it while still wet. Except the shower meant he would be naked at some point and the thought of him being so while she was in the building was far too much, let alone what his actually being unclothed could do. Arrrrgh!

Julie got his hair as clean as she could manage with Chloe's help. The first-year remembered conditioner, prolonging the ordeal with a smile that could only mean similar thoughts were shared. Except Chloe didn't have a wonderful blond skeleton in her closet. Or more specifically the dungeon, as Draco _was_ far from skeletal. Perhaps Julie could get Donaghan together with- -no, she was eleven, and he seventeen. Her own disparate relationship was warping her view of age. 

Finally Julie finished trimming the ends of his red-brown hair, resisting the temptation to save a few, until she remembered what hairs in potions were useful for. She pocketed a small amount for her revenge on Tom and Tim. Taking out her wand she mumbled:

_"Thermos Follicus," _instantly drying his hair out straight. It was even worse down than it was pulled back. Damn her hormones to hell and damn Tom and Tim. She was going to get them back rough for this!

************************* 

"Weasleys!" Donaghan shouted, his hair pulled back. 

Tim and Tom dropped their forks in mild shock at him. One didn't just stomp into the Great Hall and-

"Come with me!"

Well, it seemed Donaghan did. He looked beyond ticked. 

"If it's about the potion, Donaghan, we said-"

"Apologies do not negate the need for proper punishment!"

It was if Professor Snape had grown long red hair. Shocked, Tom and Tim had no choice but to follow him. They were too surprised to notice his accent was Irish now. 

"You will mow the whole Quidditch field with these," he announced, holding out two pairs of nail scissors. "You have one hour. Get moving." He threw them down.

The Weasleys were so startled that they complied, kneeling down and proceeding to trim the grass. They had gotten about a square foot each finished when Professor Snape landed on his new Firebolt.

"McPhersen, have you seen my wife about?"

"No, Dad, I've missed her all day. What's wrong?" 

The Weasleys looked up at Donaghan in total shock. Professor Snape looked surprised, but more ticked, really.

"Excuse me, what did you just call me?"

All three of them watched as a suddenly sheepish and accent-less Donaghan's eyes changed color from greenish blue to cinnamon and his hair blackened. He also shortened to only five-foot-seven and became decidedly more female in build and shape.

"Julie?" Tim asked nervously.

"Starcatcher!"

"I'm sorry, Dad, it was just a joke on Tom and Tim."

"I don't care about that, you changed back too fast. Detention on Monday to practice that potion more!" He flew away like a raven, then swooped back down. "And if you see your mother, tell her I need to see her soon."

With that he left the Weasleys to their staring, which they did well.

"Well, guys-"

"That," Tom observed, "was the funniest trick all year."

"And your dad giving you detention for doing the potion wrong! That was priceless!"

"I didn't do it _wrong_, just not very well."

"Sure, Julie. How did you talk Don into it?"

"I didn't. _Somebody_ told him I could cut his hair." The Weasleys gave her guilty looks as Julie became stern again. "Who told you to quit mowing?"

'Yep, he's her dad."

**********************  

Hermione was crying in the Potions room. What Severus had said that morning in the dungeons was too much to bear. She had been hiding feelings of guilt for the past three months, and to know that Severus thought it her fault Julie'd lived in an orphanage, she was certain that her feelings were justified. There was a knock at the door.

"Are you in there, Mum?"

For a moment, she was quiet, hoping Julie would assume she wasn't there and just go away the way Severus had all morning. After all, the door was locked-

She heard a scraping noise.

The door opened very quietly and Julie stepped in the room.

"Julie!"

"Mum! You scared me!"

"How did you-"

Julie held up the picks.

"Used the burglar's key."

"I should have confiscated those."

"But you didn't, Mum." Julie walked over to her mother's desk very quietly. "Dad said he needed to see you, are you okay?" 

Hermione was surprised at how easily Julie could comfort her. A child nearly raised to be a criminal, under horrible conditions, shouldn't she _blame_ her? It was her fault Julie'd been nearly sixteen when she finally saw her father for the first time, didn't she realize that? She wasn't stupid, her grades proved that point for sure. 

"Julie, did you learn how to pick locks at the orphanage?"

"Sort of. A guy at the record store showed me once, he had accidentally locked someone in the soundproof booth." Hermione looked about to ask a question, but too nervous to quite ask it. "What is it, Mum?"

"Would you have rather grown up with your dad and I?"

"Of course, but I'm not quite grown up yet, Mum. Did you two have a fight about me today?"

Julie looked frightened, desperate to make her not look sad anymore. It occurred Hermione that if Julie thought _she_ was causing a rift between the two Granger-Snapes, she would feel more pulled apart than any normal kid, because her parents had been together when she met them. She didn't know of any figts in their long history, so naturally the first reason for their fighting would be herself. Hermione knew she'd have to tread carefully.

"No, dear, it isn't your fault, it's not about you at all."

Julie knew enough about how she herself lied to tell her mother was not telling her the whole truth. What was wrong and was it her fault? She couldn't stand to see her mother sad like this.

"Would you mind me asking what it _is_ about?"

"Oh, just an argument of sorts, you know how-" Julie raised an eyebrow and Hermione stopped lying. It was useless trying to fool her own child at this, especially when Julie was by far the better liar there. "I was thinking of taking that test you took, with the Veritaserum and memory potion, find out why your scar is hurting suddenly."

"Dad doesn't think you should?"

"Quite the opposite." Hermione couldn't believe she was admitting this, but something about how Julie looked like Severus, she couldn't lie to her anymore than she could to him. "He thinks I should have taken it years ago, that way you wouldn't have had to grow up in the orphanage."

For a moment the usual roles of comforter and comfortee were reversed, as child hugged parent and told her it was okay.

"I don't think anybody really had any choice about how this happened. You couldn't have known that anything like me happened while you were kidanpped because you thought you couldn't then because of the anticeptive charm. And you only refused to protect Dad from getting fired then. It isn't your fault, it's Wormtail's and Voldemort's." Julie held up her hand to show her scar. 

"How did you know that?"

"Put it together from a few sources. The Mirror of Erised showed you and Dad in school…just kissing, you know, nothing serious, and it seemed logical that that was why you refused. The anticeptive charm, well, certain people can be bought." Julie gave her mother a smile, hoping she might cheer up a bit, but Hermione still stared in disbelief at her.

"Voldemort stole your whole childhood. Aren't you angry or sad at all?"

"The git's dead, Mum, and I think that I'm lucky, still. Uncle Harry didn't get his parents back at all."

Hermione was astonished at her daughter's calm attitude. Somehow Julie's relationship with Harry had never occurred to her. It figured he'd explain the whole thing just to prevent Julie's blaming his best friend for what had happened then. Hermione smiled, a bit relieved that Julie understood.

"So can I tell Dad you're up here? 'Cause he looked worried. I'm pretty sure he's figured out by now what's really wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"It's simple logic that it isn't your fault, Mum. Dad's not that thick, he should have pretty much thought it out by now. I'm kind of ticked at him for making you sad, though."

"Julie, you of all people know how your father is."

"Clever wit and perpetual sarcasm are not excuses for making one's loved ones cry." Julie was quoting from a source Hermione had never heard. "Miss Parkington told me that years ago."

"You keep mentioning her, she was your teacher?"

"Sort of. She grew up in the orphanage just like me, except she was around my age now when I was a baby there. Kind of a big sister-y type, used to take me out. She was studying to be a teacher and a special aide, and her first assigned kid was Cory, my sort-of-brother. She was like his mum and my aunt when we hung around; because since I had school and other things, he saw her more. Cory never really left the hospital wing for long."

"So he was really like your brother?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"I'm sorry that I never knew him."

"He'd have liked you, Mum. I don't know why, but I looked out for kids like him, maybe 'cause the bigger kids picked on me. Cory had black hair, so I figured we might have been related somehow, even if it was only by distant race. Maybe I was just lonely for a family."

"You've got one now, and you might get a sibling sometime still."

"I'd like that, I've always liked little kids."

"I know. Chloe Davies thinks the sun rises in your glove."

"She was the first kid to be nice to me at Hogwarts, Mum. I'm not just friends with her because I want a maid around."

"True, and Chloe would not stand to be your maid. With all the guys on the Quidditch team, you need a girl to talk to sometimes. She reminds me of your Aunt Ginny back in school."

"Were Uncles Ron and Harry like the Weasley boys?"

"Sort of, except I only led academic things. You would never catch me talking them into going to raid Filch's office at night." She raised an eyebrow at her daughter. Julie raised one back.

"The Polyjuice Potion, Mum?"

She sighed.

"You've heard that, then?"

"And a good thing, too, I was just considering trying to turn myself into a ferret when Uncle Harry told me that story."

"Why would you want to be a ferret?"

"To tick Malfoy off. And Anthony's shedding a lot, you know. I gave a little thought to a white mouse, but Mrs. Norris might have gotten me in the halls."

"That cat has got to be more than twenty years old by now and she isn't the slightest bit arthritic or tired at all. I wish Crookshanks knew her secret, poor darling cat."

"Speaking of, I brought Crookie a catnip ball." Julie opened the door to her mother's office and petted the old orange cat within. "Here you go, Crookshanks, happy Halloween."

The large cat purred and rubbed against her legs happily, before going to Hermione and greeting her the same way. He gave the appearance of wanting to jump on her lap though it was too much, and Hermione picked him up carefully. She gave Julie a look that was very sad, and Julie knew Crookshanks might have to be put down soon. They had talked about it a few nights ago, very late. Julie loved her pets so much she could understand, and the dear cat had taken her in as well when she first joined the family. In fact, one of Julie's favorite memories about her first week at Hogwarts, in addition to the night when she found out who her parents were, was the time she had been introduced to her mother's cat. Crookshanks got up and moved over as if he knew her already, purring and looking quite pleased she had finally come. Maybe cats knew something people didn't, maybe she and her mother just smelled alike, she wasn't sure and knew she'd never be certain.

The meeting with the puppies had been different. Lefty seemed to take to her immediately, Patch sniffed her once and then licked her face, and Trofast merely looked at her for the first week. The fact that all three puppies happened to share the same body had been very odd, but at least each face (and tongue) had a different name to go with their different personality. Lefty was the usual friendly dog, while Patch was a little more self-absorbed. Trofast, meaning faithful, seemed a bit aloof, but it was clear as she got to know them that her dad had named him very accurately. The puppies were lots of fun to take out for their walk, especially when Chloe came with her and they could talk. Her mother was right about needing a girl sometimes. Chloe was the only person in Hogwarts who completely understood why Julie liked old music and Julie was the only one who knew why Chloe wanted to be in Gryffindor. Maybe age didn't matter to wizards much. It would certainly explain a lot of other things.

Because as much as Julie needed a girl to talk to, there was also something she needed to talk to her mum about. Except she couldn't tell her mum about Draco…could she? If anyone would understand a teacher-student relationship-

Except her mum had gone through bags of hell because of it. And Julie was her only daughter, after all. Still, she had to tell somebody…

"Mum, there's this guy that I like at school."

"Really? A nice one?"

"I think he is."

"Well, describe!" Hermione pulled another chair from across the room with her wand. "Is he a Quidditch guy, a Gryffindor, a Slytherin, cute, not, long- or short-haired, _details_, dear."

"Long- or short-haired makes him sound like a poodle breed." They both laughed.

"Which means your father's a long-haired Slytherin."

"Highly temperamental breed, best suited to dungeons and all-black clothes."

"So what's yours?"

"A Slytherin. Nice and tall."

"Okay, normally I'd lecture you about dating Slytherins, but I have no room to talk and they are quite fun sometimes. Are you going to the Ball with him?"

"No, alone, except for the Quidditch boys."

"Didn't he ask you?"

"Naw, we're just sort of friends right now. And I'm starting to think Donaghan still might like me, so I wouldn't want to do that to him right away."

"But you will dance with him?"

"Certainly, if he asks."

"Julie, may I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Dance with Donaghan, too. He's a very good friend. And even if you aren't dating someone anymore, it still helps a lot to stay friends with them. Look at Viktor and I, we aren't really close, but sometimes we still send owls to keep in touch. When Durmstrang was taken over by Dark forces, Viktor was able to spy for the Ministry because we'd stayed friends so long."

"Was that in sixth year?"

"Yes, before you were born, m'duck. I went with him to the Yule Ball in fourth year and that was all, we were never really much of an item here. Svetlana and I get along just fine, and he seems to be alright with Severus, though he was just as shocked as everybody else was when we eloped."

"Uncle Harry's told me about a reporter you didn't like…what did she do when you and Dad-"

"Nothing at all. Rita Skeeter switched to writing the crosswords a long while before that time."

"Is that why they're so tricky?"

"For you they are. After about seven more months they'll be cake to you, as soon as you pick up more wizard words."

"There doesn't happen to be a wizard dictionary, by any chance?"

"I think there is. Look in the library. Maybe tomorrow we can stop by there after lunch."

"Gee, the _library_. We almost _never_ go there, Mum, it's very odd."

They were laughing as Severus crept slowly in.

"That joke's in the second generation now, and Harry won't let me forget it yet." Amid laughter, Hermione looked up and saw Severus. Julie's face froze like a stone carving.

"Professor," she greeted him icily.

"Julie-girl." The nickname showed he was in more of a contrite mood. 

"I've got some things to do, I'll be up in the Tower, Mum."

She left and Severus was forced to ask:

"She seemed angry."

"I was in something of a state when she came in here. She's a little ticked at you, but it won't last long."

"About that, I am sorry. I didn't think."

"That much, Professor, is obvious." Hermione gave her husband such a perfectly deadpan imitation of himself in class that he was hard-pressed to know how to answer back. Finaly he returned the idea of imitation, trying his best to look belligerent and somehow sort of know-it-all.

"Professor Granger, I was just angry at Voldemort, and I took it out on you. It was very wrong. But please don't take off any more points from Slytherin!"

"No, I think a detention is more in the way for you." She raised an eyebrow and Severus got her message.

"Your room or mine?"

"I think yours today."

"I really am sorry, Hermione."

"That's alright, I know why you were angry, dear. You just aimed wrong, it happens to all of us."

"You aren't blaming yourself anymore, I hope?"

"Not since Julie came up here and picked the lock."

"She did? That little Slytherin! There's two charms on that."

"I know. Sometimes she's more Slytherin than Gryffindor."

"I'd rather she'd be Gryffindor, it's more like you."

Severus kissed her hand apologetically, still trying to make up for the words he'd said.

"She's your daughter, too, and she likes a Slytherin."

"I've suspected that. She's been seen in the dungeons twice."

"Any idea which one might appeal to her? She describes him as tall."

"Most of this year's boys are. Flint is the only one I can stand, even if he does act like a damn forgiven penitent all the time and call Julie 'Miss' as if he were afraid of her."

"If someone could just forgive you after something like he did, wouldn't you be just a little bit scared of them? That is why Julie did that, you know."

"Full well. Malgryevic's too slow for her intelligence…I don't suppose Blodgett would have the looks…I can't think of anyone off my hand."

"That's alright, she'll dance with him tonight if he asks her. I told her she should also dance with Donaghan, he really does seem to still like our girl."

"Now him I approve of. He's not one of those types who would pressure her into making a mistake while she's still in school -as good as those things have the potential to be."

"You know, I think that's why she gave up on him as a boyfriend, she got bored with only staying within the rules."

"Are you implying that Julie's…?"

"A lot like me. Most girls her age are, you should know that, Sev."

The elder professor sighed heavily.

"Why don't they teach classes in parenting?"

"Who could teach it?"

"You've got a point. About tonight, are you still going to go with me?" He gave her such a pleading, contrite look that Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Of course, love. I'm not angry anymore."

"Weren't you going to punish me?"

"Oh, yes! I had almost forgotten your punishment. Into the fireplace, Severus. You've been a very bad professor today, you know."

Outside the door, Julie bit down hard on her own arm as she heard a smack. The mental image of what her parents were implying made her want to give up eavesdropping in favor of needlework. She quickly pinched her nose tight to prevent giggles escaping and alerting them. She wasn't aware that they were far from a state to notice things like that.

After a long and very satisfying make-up kiss, Severus obeyed his wife and jumped into the fireplace. She had a few things to put away before she joined him in the dungeon by Floo powder. There were two bottles on the desk, one of which she picked up and took to the open door.

"For a Slytherin you really are bad at that."

Julie drew blood from her arm as she jumped in shock.

"Cripes, Mum! You scared me!"

"You needed it."

"Def'nitely. I just wanted to make sure you two were…not fighting anymore… I was just concerned. I won't do that again."

"Not to us at least. Here's the stuff that should straighten your hair out, it works kind of like Muggle conditioner."

"Thanks, Mum."

"I'm going to be a bit –er, busy for awhile-"

"Punishing Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm going to make him do laundry -the Muggle way. I have to stand over him to make sure he doesn't turn anything into a bleach-specked mess, so I'll meet you in your room to get ready, dear."

Her mother was so bad at lying, still!

"Okay. Guess I'll see you later, then."

Julie was certain that from then on, noone could mention laundry in her presence. What a terrible, horrid mental picture, that!

A/N: Alright, now that I've gotten almost to the Halloween Ball, (which wasn't in the books, I know, but I wanted one,) and it's clear that something's going on with Voldemort, I must explain in further detail what's going on. With me, I mean. I got a blistering review from someone called Enfleurage, and it occurred to me that she's completely right right now. I've been neglecting poor Sev and Hermione, and letting Julie get too cool without any flaws. That's also why she's been scared to walk around without a knife always, which is a disorder called weapons-defense paranoia common in children who've seen lots of violence or been teased a lot in school when they were little. So unless I say she isn't, Julie is always armed, so you know.

Another little note, Malfoy got a dose of that potion, too, so we're going to be seeing some longhairs at the dance tonight. I got the idea from a reviewer who emailed me, which I really appreciate if you've got time. Good ideas I listen to in the reviews as well, (except Spike-Lover, why would you want to kill Ron? He's completely benign so far aside from being a really cheap plot device.) I'm not a very good writer, and a lot (too much) of the conversations are pulled out from my own life or friend's lives somewhat, so the 'gift for dialogue' is really just a gift for changing things around. All the talk about Quidditch happened to my friend on the soccer team, (only girl on it.) Julie's pet ferret is a whole lot like my brother's bunny, Thumper, and Nagaina is the snake from the Jungle Book. (You know in 'Rikki-Tikki-Tavi'? I borrowed just the name, though, so far.) Why I've gotten so many reviews is a mystery, as I can't think why anyone but Kylie can stand this tripe. Her tastes have always been questionable. (I'm on a new medication for depression, now, so maybe I'm not as bad as I think I am. Thumper seems to think I'm a good writer. But he's a little gray bunny. (lol.) J)


	18. Allhallows Disasters

A/N: Well, I got so many nice, reassuring reviews that I wrote a little tiny story for my mum. And she liked it. So I wrote another little tiny story for my dad. And he liked it. So I went through most of my relatives, writing little tiny stories all the past two days and emailing them around to each of them. Finally Nana suggested I publish the lot of them, with forwards to each story by the relatives that I wrote each of them for. She's already found me a person who does these things, some kind of agent, think it's literary, and it looks like I might get a book out soon. (Soon being within the next couple years.) So I'm not a tripemonger after all. (content little smile.) I'm going to work on this story LOTS more, now, because it's possible you nice reviewers kept me from something bad. Not saying I was suicidal, but just really sad. This next chapter gets a little scary, but I think you understand it needs to be done. 'The Show Must Go On,' to quote Harry Zidler there. Here you go. And thanks. I really needed that.

Chapter Eighteen: Allhallows Disaster

"My hair is straight," Julie observed in awe. "I look completely unnatural."

"Wow, Julie, you look so great!" Chloe complimented as her older friend came back in her red bathrobe. "What did you do to your hair?"

"It was one of Mum's potions, I don't know what. Do I really look myself? I feel like I just turned into my dad."

"Naw, his hair's not that soft and your's is much longer. What color dress robes have you picked out?"

"Er, that's the thing, Mum got me two sets, one for Christmas and one for this."

"C'est magnifique! I get to help you pick out what to wear!"

Before Julie could protest or even take another breath, her half-French friend was pulling robes from her closet.

"Red and green. Does not 'zat figure?" Chloe held up first the red, then the green to her friend's face and mumbled something incoherent and in French Julie didn't grasp. "Well, you'll look like a temptress in either set, are you sure your mother picked these out for you?"

"I wouldn't be shocked to find out that your Mum had helped her, Chlo'."

The younger girl laughed.

"You should really see mine, they're in Hufflepuff gold. Everyone was so sure I'd wind up in my father's House, and yellow is one of my good colors."

"Good colors? I've been wearing blue and green all my life, Chloe. What's all this stuff about 'good colors'?"

"Certain colors look better with certain skin, certain hair, certain eyes. You know. What looks beautiful on you might look bad on me. Do you honestly know so little about fashion?"

"Well, I guess I've got you to teach me now, don't I, then?"

"Better me than your father. He just wears black."

"I've noticed that. I think he's terribly afraid to mess the laundry up."

"That or he's afraid of stains from his first class showing up all day. We do seem to do a lot of potions in his class."

"He used to teach Potions, it's his forté."

"I like your mother's class better, she doesn't yell."

"She can, though, I've seen her get ticked at Dad. One time I fell off my broom, you'd think he had let me have my own dragon."

"Professor 'Agrid would like that."

"I'm sure he would. I've been thinking of finding him a little dwarf manticore, the kind that doesn't get much bigger than my arm. That'd be a pretty good Christmas gift."

"So would a set of adjustable leashes, Jule. Don't let's encourage his dangerous beasts hobby."

"Mum says he's always liked them, it's a bit late now."

"What are you thinking your dad would like?"

"I still haven't figured out what Dad wants yet, except the Quidditch Cup and a hundred percent on all of my finals."

"That's what my father wants, too, except for the Quidditch Cup. Do you think I might have a chance to play on next year's team?"

"I think you would be really great at it. And I wouldn't have to face all the guys alone." An idea hit Julie like a brick. "Tell you what, Chloe, you teach me what to wear and all this girly stuff, and I'll teach you to fly better than I can now."

"But the 'girly stuff' takes less than two hours, Julie."

"Chloe, look at my face." Obediently, Chloe did as she was told. "Notice anything odd? I've no makeup on."

"You've just gotten out of the shower, Julie."

"I know, but I _never_ wear makeup. I don't _own_ any. Isn't that odd?"

Chloe couldn't quite believe what Julie was telling her. "The fact is, Chloe, I want to look really good at the dance tonight. There's a guy I sort of fancy and he will be there."

"Is it Donaghan?"

"No, it's a Slytherin."

"Julia Snape! That's heresy! …Is he dishy?"

"Very much so."

"What color hair?"

Julie knew there was only one blond guy at Hogwarts who could be considered a dateable Slytherin.

"Well, I kinda can't tell you, you'd figure it out really easily."

"It's Alexei Malgryevic, isn't?"

"No! Good lord, that'd be like dating a red cabbage. Tastes very nice but can't think that well. You know the type, all body below and no brains upstairs."

Chloe laughed and burst into song just then.

_"'Through all levels you've been changing. Elevator in the brain hotel,'"_

_"'A-broken down but just as well.'"_

_" 'Looking through crystal spectacles, I can see you've had your fun.'_ It isn't Professor Malfoy, now, is it, Jules?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I knew it! You are so your mother's daughter!"

"I do not like Malfoy, you crazy mindless git!"

"Then why don't you call him 'Professor,' then?"

"I never have! He's my dad's friend…"

"Boy, are you in for it, Julie! Your dad's gonna turn him into a roach if he finds this out."

_"I…do…not…like…Draco,"_ Julie enunciated slowly and clearly, too angry to realize her royal slip. 

Chloe's eyes lit up like green beacons.

"You _so_ do, you just called him by his first name!"

"Well, what if I do, you won't tell anyone."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I… I'll tell Tom or Tim that you fancy them."

"Fancy them, I can't tell them apart quite yet!"

"Well…I could tell Professor McGonagall you've been going into Hogsmeade three years early."

"You helped me sneak in, you'd be nailed as well."

"Are you going to blackmail me?"

"I don't know. I think it's cute you've got a crush on a teacher, Jules… it _is_ just a crush, right?"

"I'd hope it was."

"Tell me the truth, Julie."

"Alright, we might've hugged once or twice in the past few weeks. But only when I was crying and he was being _really_ nice." 

"Awww! You aren't shagging him down in the dungeons, then?"

"Chloe! Of course not!"

"I didn't think so. You'd be redder if you'd banged him, then, wouldn't you?"

"What _part_ of France did you grow up in? You're eleven, for crying out loud, Chloe!"

"I'm also literate. Mamá tends to leave smutty books about."

"Spare me from France in its entirety."

"Alright, you've told me about your crush. Would you like to hear about mine?"

"Okay!" Julie brightened, happy to be off the tender subject of her Draco.

"Well, I know he's closer to your age than to mine, but the Chaser who sits by himself a lot, the really sweet, quiet one-"

"Aldous? That's so cute!"

"Isn't he? I mean, black hair, straight nose, dark eyes like coal, rrrrr!"

Julie didn't look nearly as gone as Chloe was.

"You realized you just described Dad as well?"

"Your mother's not the only one with good taste, you know."

Julie had to pause a moment to recover her wits. Yes, her father was nice-looking, but did everybody have to notice it in her presence? Especially a smutty eleven-year-old. 

"Am I going completely against type to like a blonde?"

"Sort of. But that's okay. You're allowed."

"I am so happy to have your permission, Chlo'," Julie observed quite sarcastically.

"Think nothing of it, lowly mortal. And my silence on the matter can be bought… I think you know what I'd fancy if you can help." Julie nodded and Chloe smiled brightly. "And the green ones for tonight, he's a Slytherin."

"Merci beaucoup."

"Julie, your accent, c'est magnifique!"

"Hail, my tutor."

"You're going to sound like a Parisian soon."

"I hope to. Now we'd both better get ready for the dance."

"Mais oui, mon ami. Voulez-vous addresseé Aldous pour moi?"

"Oui, mon ami."

"Merci beaucoup."

*************************** 

"Mmmm… I'm so glad you're not ticked at me anymore," a very contented and somewhat less clothed Severus observed to his wife, kissing her so that she couldn't answer him. "Cute though you are when you're angry, dear."

"Since when do you say 'ticked'?"

"Since 'mad' means crazy."

"It's somewhat unnerving when you spit out words like that."

"How so?" Severus asked, sticking his tongue out outrageously. "I don't shpit."

"I mean when you spit out that Muggle slang, it's so unusual for you that I don't know who I'm kissing here."

"There are some very easy ways to tell, d'you want to see?"

"Like that! You are not supposed to be cute and funny now!"

"Would you prefer me to be strict and nasty now?"

"Well…not really. Actually, I'd like you to be dripping wet with me in the shower, but that's just my dirty mind going out of line."

"If it's _that_ dirty I'd best be cleaning it." Without further ado, Hermione found herself being carried yet again to the shower in Severus's dungeon bathroom. 

"You know Julie was eavesdropping on us upstairs?"

"Figures. Did she have a conniption?"

"A small one. That's punishment."

"Well, what completely implausible lie did you tell our girl?"

"I was going to make you do the laundry in the Muggle way."

"Perfect."

"What are you planning, Professor Snape?"

"Something unfriendly but humorous to do to her."

"Must you always be such a total Slytherin?"

"Yes."

"Dammit."

"I thought so."

"How come there's five kinds of shampoo in the shower, here?"

"I rotate them. Don't you notice I smell different all the time?"

"When did that start?"

"Last week. Draco suggested it."

"Why would you take his advice? His hair's grown down past his shoulders in just two days!"

"The Weasleys gave him some of that potion they made the mistake on, that's why his hair and beard got so long. He gave them two detentions, I thought that was fair."

"Did they use overripe Symphon spores or something, Sev?"

"Even worse. You should know it was Tryphon spores."

"No wonder Donaghan's got hair past his shoulders now."

"I shudder to think what it might have done to Julie, too."

"She would look like a pinup from the nineties, ecch!"

"I don't think she'd be able to walk upright. The hormones commonly increased are estrogen, testosterone and cortisone, which explains their nails and hair growing at such a rate. In males of their age the other two were balanced so as to cause little if any harm, but Julie's not done growing. She'd be a wreck."

"I'm kind of glad the Weasleys played that trick as a gift for her."

"Making Draco and McPhersen start bursting into song a lot? They felt that would amuse her?"

"They're Weasleys, they did mean well."

"At least they haven't tried giving anything to me. Draco's playing Mad-Eye Moody's game, only drinking from his own cup, scared he'll wind up with hair long as Dumbledore's."

"Speaking of, did you hear he'll be at the feast? He's also staying for the dance, that seems nice of him."

"I wonder what he'll wear."

"You're wearing black?"

"Of course."

"Seriously, dear, color would not kill you."

"It'd kill Minerva to see me walking around in it."

"You've got a point. Better save it for April Fool's."

"Ah, yes, the Weasley Christmas. What have you got planned?"

"Nothing so far, just turning into a squirrel in class."

"That might spawn a lot of very mean jokes, dear. I was planning to come in and act like you, see how many kids I send to Madam Pomfrey's then."

"Okay, by acting like me do you mean-?"

"Full charade, kindness and understanding flowing from the pores. Better get a shot before I attempt it dear."

"Should I be you, then? That could be quite interesting."

"I don't think you could do it."

"Oh, could I, Snape?"

There was a lot of very odd noise that nobody heard. The Silencing Charm on the whole dungeon saw to that.

*********************************** 

"Ah, little Chloe. How are you?"

"Er- -uh, fine, sir." Chloe looked as if she might explode any second from being addressed by Minister Dumbledore. Fortunately, ingrained manners caused her to respond. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm quite well, I've just got some nice new socks." Dumbledore pulled up his robe and unzipped his shiny boot to show a bright red sock with little gold brooms on it. "The left ones are green, Dobby mixes them. One can never have too many socks, you know."

"Oui, monsieur."

"Or too many languages. Voulez-vous doncè avec moi, mademoiselle Davies?"

And with that, Chloe was spun about by Minister Dumbledore, who was easily three feet taller and _much_ older, but no less swift on his feet than the students there. It was the way Chloe danced with her grandfather, a spry old man married to a half-veela, and she found herself being less and less nervous fast. As the song ended, Dumbledore bowed and kissed her hand gently. 

"Thank you for the dance, ma petit cherie. I believe there is someone else next in line."

There, a little behind her, was Aldous. Julie had suggested he dance with her younger friend, and the quiet boy complied with a 'why not' air. He was a writer of poetry, Chloe found, and the two at least got to know each other if not precisely sprouting love. She was having a wonderful time with him, and barely noticed as the music suddenly slowed to a needed halt. The Great Hall went dark but for one spotlight.

Strings began to play a classical baroque song, except Chloe knew for sure that wasn't what it was. The spotlight was centered on Malfoy now, and he strode across the floor to where Julie stood. This was evidently something he was used to, however Julie looked a little scared of his presence there. He bowed and she curtseyed in an antique way, and they began to move through the paces of a court quadrille. It was elegant, intricate, and somehow just a little bit frightening in a way. It was clear to Chloe that her friend was terrified.

Suddenly an electric bass punctured the mood of things, and the English court quadrille became a fast Spanish tango with lots of turns. Where Julie learned to dance like that Chloe had no idea, but it was obvious she wasn't scared anymore. In fact, she seemed to be liking this a great deal. Her parents were a little bit startled, especially as Malfoy had a red Gryffindor sash that perfectly contrasted to Julie's green and his black robes quite festively. His hair was longer, of course, but his face was smooth, excepting a very European moustache and goatee beard, secretly reminding Chloe of one of the Three Musketeers. The way Julie had fixed her hair was incredible, straight and pulled back with a braid that controlled its length. It was as if her typical ponytail had merely gained elegance, so that she didn't look like anyone but herself. She looked older, though, and noone thought to comment that Malfoy was a teacher there.

The song finally ended and the two dancers stopped politely, Malfoy kissing Julie's hand and she curtseying. Chloe was amused very suddenly. Julie _liked_ him! This was just so cute, she had to go talk to her.

Julie's dad, Professor Snape, beat her to the punch.

"Well!" He looked down the entire length of his nose at the miscreant. "Strange terpsichorean powers one acquires in orphanages."

"Oh, no, Dad, Malfoy taught me. It was something to do when weren't flying. I kinda wanted to see what you and Mum would think."

"I think Malfoy needs to- -oh, there you are, Draco. What's up with this?"

"Malfoy family tradition, Sev, stop the show. Julie was the only girl who'd hold still and learn the steps."

"I believe _that_ was a Muggle song." Severus was decidedly less than amused by this.

"Right on, Dad! 'The Ace Of Swords' from _Turn Of A Friendly Card_. Alan Parsons Project."

"Come on, Severus, it was lots of fun to make people stare like that."

"There's nothing going on between us but friendly stuff. Malfoy's too blond to be good for anything but dancing with."

"And helping you practice and study, girl!"

"Don't call me 'girl,' ferret."

"Alright, _Julia."_

"Arrgh! Can't you see how annoying your Slytherins are?" 

Julie's eyes narrowed into dangerous triangles, and Severus believed their relationship was really just friends –so far. His daughter would have to be watched very carefully.

"Why don't you dance with me awhile, Starcatcher?"

"Okay." 

Snape was just as strong a leader as Malfoy was, probably because he'd taught him as a boy her age years ago. After a comforting dance with her father, Julie found herself spun into the arms of Uncle Harry as well, and then to Uncle Ron, whose smile looked permanent.

"Have you met Judy yet?" he asked her. Julie shook her head 'no.' "Well, then, come along. She'll be thrilled to meet you, you know Muggle stuff."

Ron and Julie left the dance floor for a table where Ginny and Hermione were chatting with a nice-looking dark-haired lady. The effect on Julie Snape was galvanic.

"Miss Parkington?"

"Julie Starcatcher?"

"What are you doing here?" they asked in unison.

"I- I'm… this is my mum, Judy."

"Then I'm dating your Uncle Ron!"

The two females embraced like the old friends they really were. Judy was a little younger than Uncle Ron, but not too old that she didn't treat Julie as an adult. In fact, Hermione was surprised at how friendly the thirty-some-year-old was with her fifteen-year-old. It was a little bit painful to think that this person had seen Julie grow up from about the same age she was when her daughter was born, but then Hermione noticed a slight tension. This teacher did not think of Julie as her own child, rather, she seemed friendly but almost afraid of her. And Julie had an accusing sort of look in her eyes, the kind of sidelong, almost-angry look Harry sometimes gave people who had known his parents when he didn't have the chance. Yes, Julie and Judy got along quite well, but there was something between them that wasn't good.

"So, how long have you known Julie?" Severus had to find out how this person knew his child.

"Since the night she came in with her hand cut up. Julie used to be one of the kids that I tutored."

"She taught me how to read when I was four or so."

"Three, Julie, you were three."

"Was I? I don't remember everything." This time, Julie had a harshness in her voice that only Hermione, Judy and Ginny seemed to notice.

"She was very precocious for her age, you know."

"Still is," Severus observed. "You should see her fly."

"You mean she's a- Julie, you're a-"

"A witch? Oh, yeah. For awhile now."

Judy went white and looked somewhat frightened then. This time Ron was paying enough attention to notice this.

"Judy, you alright?"

"Yeah, just I… I finally know how she did that trick."

"Which of many have you figured out?" Julie asked with an innocently exasperated smile.

"You made a pencil levitate above my head!"

And instantly something was revealed: this was the 'ornery old baggage' Julie'd spoke of once. Severus began to notice the way they seemed to be holding a standoff there, the teacher a little afraid of his daughter and Julie wanting something to be brought up soon. There was definitely something Slytherinish going on.

"It seemed a good place to put it at the time."

"Well, it was very funny, now I think of it. So tell me, how were you adopted by the wizards here?"

"I wasn't."

"She's our daughter," Severus asserted. "It's a long story, but she's ours each way possible."

"So you're her father? I see the resemblance."

The Snapes grinned identically, pleased that she had noticed this.

"And you've got your mother's eyes, Julie, I bet that they noticed on looks alone. _Do_ wizards adopt children, anyways?"

"Quite often. We were planning to adopt her before we found out she was really ours."

Julie had not realized that little tidbit of information, but it was clear from the look of shock and then sudden contentment that she was very pleased to know it. Before she had kind of considered herself an unfortunate accident –a reasonably wanted accident afterwards, but an accident, no question about that point. The idea that her parents had liked her enough in the few hours they knew her before finding out the truth of things was something Julie needed to know very badly. Hermione saw the look on her face and wondered why she hadn't told her before.

Judy felt the need to explain her unusual question, then:

"Because I work at the orphanage where I grew up, and some of the children in there may be wizards, too. I mean, if Julie was, it must not be an uncommon occurrence there."

"Actually, Miss Parkington," Dumbledore explained, coming from behind her like a bearded ghost in Hamlet, "the Ministry of Magic is currently initiating a project all over England to diagnose young wizards in orphanages earlier. I trust Ron here has told you about Voldemort?"

"Er…sort of. I know he was evil and he grew up in a Muggle orphanage."

"Well, there are many more unpleasant details, but you know the most relevant two at least. Were you aware that young Voldemort lived at the same orphanage you and Julie did?"

****************************** 

The spell was almost complete. Wormtail dusted the pentacle's sides with ground bone dust some more, and chanted in Latin as he pierced his own hand with a long shard of bone, dripping blood into the center of the five-point star. Smoke or mist began to rise up from where the red drops had fallen, and before poor Wormtail knew it, he was knocked down by the shock of his old master standing there.

"Pathetic," hissed the voice of Lord Voldemort. "You use sorcery to return me to earth once more, even as I flourish in hell below? You failed me one time too many, Peter Pettigrew!"

"Please, Master! I did not fail! The- -the backup, the backup in case you were killed, alive, of course, but not at the orphanage."

"Of course not! And yet you failed to reincarnate me in the child. What good does it do a dead wizard to have an heir?"

For a moment Wormtail cowered and Voldemort realized what he had said. An heir…

"Get up, you coward. I shall spare you. You chose my heir well, child of the traitor and the Muggle-born. How did you cause them to mate back then?"

"I didn't, my Lord," Wormtail said with relish. "They had been having an affair in the dungeon for almost two years before you were- -well, you know."

"Really?" The salacious grin on the snakelike face was so hideous that even Wormtail cringed. "And you kidnapped the Mudblood, a Memory Charm… they know nothing about my heir at all, I trust?"

Wormtail cowered and Voldemort glared at him_. "Do they?"_

"Well, the child's magical gifts were somewhat evident, and-"

"Do they know about the child or not, Wormtail?"

He couldn't stand the glare and the story poured out.

"She came to Hogwarts and they found out she's theirs, m'Lord. She's been one of their family ever since."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Three months, give or take. I'm sorry, sir!"

"Sorry? My only chance at an heir is a blood-and-bone Snape!" Voldemort's eyes blazed red at Wormtail as the latter cowered and wished it was all over. "Wait. Do you mean to say that Severus married the Muggle-born?"

"Years ago, m'Lord. She's a professor now."

"Hmm. Whatever happened to Potter then?"

"He played Quidditch and now teaches Flying at Hogwarts, sir."

"As would his father. Any family?"

"Married Arthur Weasley's youngest, they have twin girls."

"You're good at keeping track of my enemies. Are you sure you don't still have a soft spot for the Weasleys from your rodent years?" It was a harsh thing to say and Wormtail cringed from it. "What of Dumbledore?"

"He's Minister of Magic now."

"Figures," Voldemort hissed. "Well, what night is this?"

"Halloween, sir, the only night the spell can work."

"Curses! You are aware, then, that I cannot leave the pentacle?"

"I- I had no idea, sir."

"Learn what you attempt next time, ignorant!"

For a few moments Voldemort considered the night's possibilities. He would begin to shine once the night reached it's darkest point, then slowly fade and be gone by firstlight. The spell would not work again for an entire year, and if the heir became too close to her blood parents, it would be useless to attempt to convince her then. An idea came to him -he'd use an old trick over again.

"Wormtail. where did your wand's failure scar the child?"

"On the hand, the left palm."

"Oh, that's very good. I bet Potter and his little 'nephew' get along quite well."

"Er- 'niece,' m'Lord, the child is a female one."

"Really?" Voldemort's face contorted into a smile that expelled a laugh. "Imagine Severus with a daughter, that's really rich! I bet he's despondent she isn't a boy," he hissed.

"She plays Quidditch very well, he taught her to fly."

"So he likes the girl?"

"Very much, I think, m'Lord."

"What about the mother? Too young to have a ten-year-old daughter at twenty-eight?"

"Uhh…it's been nearly _sixteen_ years, m'Lord, the girl is fifteen now."

"Fifteen!"

The plan he had been plotting would not work that way. Voldemort had only done it once on an eleven-year-old. And yet, fifteen…

"Wormtail, what goes on to celebrate Halloween now? Could you Apparate to Hogwarts and snatch the girl?"

"Sir, we're in Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest now as you speak. There's a dance for all the students and faculty, plus Dumbledore should be in attendance."

"Excellent," the Dark Lord hissed evilly. "Listen here, I want you to go to the dance right now and pick out a student who's close to her. A friend. Lure the friend out with the Confundus Charm, then make sure my heir is the only one who knows it's you. She'll follow… the Gryffindor blood should do that much. You will be rewarded well _if_ you can do this right."

"My life is yours to command, Lord."

"Enough groveling! Are you certain of who the girl's friendly with? She is in Slytherin, of course,"

"No, it's Gryffindor."

"Ah." Voldemort frowned for a moment, then smiled like a reptile with glowing eyes. "That should serve the traitor father perfectly. Have you been watching her closely?"

"Since she was born, from a distance, sir."

"You know her memories, what she's grieved about, a few great fears?"

"She fears little, m'Lord, after all she's your heir."

"Not yet she isn't. Or should I say, not quite?"

Voldemort knew that the conversion would take a lot of work. And he only had about eight hours left to finish it. But he wasn't called the Dark Lord for nothing.

"Fetch the heir with the bait… what's her name?"

"The bait, m'Lord?"

"My heir! What's the child's name?"

"Oh… Julia Starcatcher Snape, because of her scar."

"Named for a mark, I remember that. The orphanage was never a place to give out real names." It was as if Tom Riddle was remembering his nasty past. "I, fortunately, showed up with my own name. Get on with it, Wormtail!"

He scampered off. Meanwhile, Voldemort scratched a few letters in the air, then switched them around to make a new name. 

The Dark Lady could not be called 'Julie Snape.'

**************************** 

A/N: Alright, is anybody scared yet? I'm not sure the newly-very-flawed Julie has the character to stand up to Voldemort… but Draco might. Will somebody save somebody else next time, and will Ron get up his nerve to propose to Miss Parkington before Julie gets her into an argument? Will Tim and Tom spike the punch bowl with absinthe or just potion? Why am I asking nobody these questions, just typing them?

Because I'm not sure I have all the answers yet. It might be awhile.

T, B, F, 

-J. McN.


	19. Help From Both Sides

Chapter Nineteen: Help from Both Sides

Chloe and Aldous were talking quietly in a corner as Julie and Malfoy pretended to argue about certain Quidditch plays. Dumbledore and Severus were watching them very closely, one with a mischievous twinkly-eyed smile and one with a black scowl as he realized Julie fancied her teacher too. Draco noticed the way his old Professor was looking at him and returned an exasperated shrug to his angry frown, as if to say 'isn't this Gryffindor annoying, Sev?' Julie understood what he had been doing and maneuvered the argument around so that she was facing her father and Dumbledore, then acted as if she were perfectly ready to rip Draco's head clean off. Severus was perfectly unconvinced. She was worse at concealing what she thought of the Slytherin than her mother had been when he was seeing her in school. Finally Malfoy made a sufficiently insulting crack about the Gryffindor Beaters to make Julie stomp off in abject disgust. Dumbledore bit his lip to keep from giggling.

"And what is so funny, Albus?" Severus asked. It wasn't often that he used Dumbledore's first name, but at that moment he was somewhat beyond angry. Dumbledore smiled enigmatically.

"Watching your daughter and Draco make you squirm, Severus. I wonder which of the Weasleys put them up to it."

That idea was something Severus had not considered. A charade just to bother him? Julie was definitely not above doing that. Draco, on the other hand, was one of his closest friends, and why he would get involved in such a childish prank-

Unless Julie was doing it all herself, using Malfoy as Hermione might borrow Ron sometimes. That little Slytherin! Severus brightened considerably at what he thought was a very admirable joke, and returned to his goblet of pumpkin juice. Dumbledore began to talk shop with him a few moments afterward, and soon the two were engrossed in a heavy discussion of Disgorgement Charms. Hermione crept up behind her Severus and stroked his neck. Dumbledore smiled as the professor straightened and looked around startledly.

"Pardon me, Minister Dumbledore, but I believe I need to borrow this," the Potions professor announced, giving Severus a decidedly sly little grin.

"Of course, dear, I was just thinking of that myself."

The Minister of Magic got up with Severus and went over to another of the faculty tables to ask the Headmistress for a dance. She accepted, and soon students and teachers alike had stopped what they were doing to watch the dance floor with expressions of surprise and wonderment. Professor Snape dancing with his wife was one thing incredible, but Minister Dumbledore and Headmistress McGonagall were almost outdoing the younger pair. It was really uncanny the way neither of them seemed to have aged physically. It was also evident that the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor spent a little more of their time dancing in unattended corridors than anyone had really suspected. It was at this moment when the whole room was distracted that the unthinkable happened –Wormtail walked calmly in and kidnapped Chloe.

The first-year put up a valiant struggle, but was silenced with a sharp knock on the head, and Aldous was thrown to the floor similarly. The doors of the Great Hall flapped a moment, and the Dark wizard was gone with the little girl. Aldous got up and ran for the only person he knew would be ready.

Donaghan.

The Scot was up from the table in the corner and out the door before anyone but the Weasley boys knew what was going on, and Julie followed her Captain with wand drawn and fury making her brown eyes look like stones. She caught up with him as they neared the Forbidden Forest, only to be lectured harshly as she ran along beside:

"What're y' doin' 'ere, Starcatcher?"

"Saving my friend, how 'bout you, Donaghan?"

"Why didn' y' just get y're dad or a teacher?"

"Tom and Tim did that. _Accio!"_ Julie caught her broom and leapt onto it midstride. She easily outdistanced Donaghan on the obvious trail of the kidnapper's footprints, ducking branches and scratching her arms a bit. For only the end of October, is was suddenly colder than wintertime. The footsteps came to an abrupt end in a small clearing. Julie landed her broom and jumped off of it, only to gaze in shock at a boy who looked a great deal like Aldous.

"Hi," he greeted. "This first-year must be a friend of yours."

Donaghan burst into the clearing and looked around. Chloe was tied to a tree and unconscious still. Julie had her knife out and the ropes cut in a second's space. Surely the boy was not the kidnapper, but then, who was?

"Take Chloe back, Donaghan, I'll deal with this." Julie had her wand pointed dangerously at the figure, who very calmly held his hands up in surrender. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Julie, I don' think-" Donaghan protested, but Chloe groaned. There was a dangerous cut bleeding down her forehead. "Alrigh', but you be careful, na', Julie-girl!"

The black-haired boy raised an eyebrow and a large, wolflike creature appeared, chasing Donaghan out of the Forest and away from the pentacle. Julie shot curses at the beast, finally stunning it after it gave Donaghan a fairly nasty bite on the leg as he ran quickly.

"Damn! You stay there!" she commanded, turning on her heel to aim at the black-haired boy. Why hadn't Donaghan used her broom? At least Chloe was out of the Forest now. "What the hell are you doing in the Forest at this time of night?"

"I like it here, Starcatcher," the boy said. 

"How did you know my name?"

"I'm in Slytherin."

Julie didn't recognize him, but he certainly looked the part, black school robes with a serpent on the crest at his breast pocket. "My name's Tom Riddle, you must be Julie Snape."

"Obviously," Julie growled by way of assent. "Why are you out here instead of at the dance, then?"

"I can't leave this pentacle. Halloween prank, you might say."

For the first time Julie noticed the star within a circle near her feet drawn in almost phosphorescent white powder. 

"Your friends did this?"

"A friend, you might maybe say." The boy sat cross-legged in the center of the pentacle and Julie returned her knife to its pocket but not her wand. "What kind of a witch wears a knife to dance?"

"A careful one. How do I need to break this curse and free you?"

"See, Julia, you can't. I have to stay here in the pentacle, or I'll turn into dust when the moon hits me."

"What kind of a horrible person would do that, though?"

"My friend, obviously. Don't worry, I told him to years ago."

For a moment Julie wasn't sure whether he'd said 'to' or 'two,' as he was obviously not much older than she was. 

"How old are you?"

"Eighty-five or so."

"What?"

"I was born in 1931, what year is it now?"

"Two-thousand-eighteen. How are you-?"

"My age? This is just how I looked when I was sixteen. Really, I could be your brother, even our eyes match." Riddle blinked and for a second Julie was sure she saw a little bit of glowing red. "Tell me, are the Broughton matrons still as awful as they were back then?"

"You were a Broughton kid?"

"And so were you. I was a lot of things."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I know many things. Your friend –Cory, was it, dead of something he never risked himself. Your teacher refusing to let you go near him then. I could read your face as clearly as if it were your mind."

Riddle grinned oddly at her and held out his hand. "Come a little closer and touch my hand. You can read my mind, too, if you'd really like."

Something made Julie reach out her left hand and not her right. It was as if she suddenly 9ould not control her arm. Riddle took her left hand against his and held it tight. Her scar burned as if he'd put a match to it.

And images began to rush through her mind. The orphanage, hallways she knew well, but the boy was there. He had been just as lonely as she'd been there. And he, too, had started to do magic. The boy in the images grew up into a powerful wizard then, like her father but more of the orphan type. Julie felt such a strong bond with this wizard, as if they had the same past, the same story-

_But different Houses!_

She remembered what Dumbledore had said a half-hour ago, that Voldemort, too, was a Broughton kid. She tried to pull her hand away, but it was much too late. Tom Riddle changed before her eyes into the Dark Lord.

"Ah, Julie, you're surely realizing by now that you're my heir? The pain in your scar, wandless spells and such, even your parents suspected it from the first. It wasn't a loophole in the spell that caused you to be born, it was circumvented by my servant for my own purpose."

Julie couldn't, wouldn't, didn't want to believe what he was telling her. But images of Wormtail removing the spell on the whole dungeons convinced her that Voldemort was telling her the horrible truth of things. Tears burned her eyes but she did not let them fall.

"Sad, are you? Well, it's hard when any child finds out their parent never wanted them in the first place."

Julie saw how Tom Riddle was told at the orphanage that his father had abandoned him even before his birth. Voldemort then showed her a bruised, cut-up eighteen-year-old, barely able to stay awake as she was led into the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Julie recognized her father and Dumbledore with the girl.

And with more pain than she had ever felt, realized it was her own mother refusing to take a simple memory test, one she had done herself without a second thought. Taken from this point of view, even though she had understood before why her mother had refused, Julie was now able to take it as the condemnation to an orphan's life for sixteen years. A sibilant voice whispered inside her head:

"Yes, Julie, you weren't wanted. Just like me. Wouldn't you like the rest of what goes with that? The wandless spells, the immortality? After I return to the other side, you could have everything that I gained my entire life. My powers, my servants, all of it's yours if you say the word."

Another image: Julie saw herself turning thirty the next day just by willing it. She was taller and slimmer, and her hair was very long. Malfoy and Donaghan looked startled to see her grown suddenly. Adult Julie passed a mirror, and her eyes glowed a little red. It was very tempting, and Julie considered it.

But just then, another image, but not one of Voldemort's illusions, a memory, returned to her as sharp as a photograph. She was learning to ride a broom for the first time with her father and Draco there. Julie felt the soaring, the giddy height, her hair blown back as if it were happening over again. And then the terrible fear as she looked down and fell off into Draco's arms. The momentary warmth of her new- was it boyfriend or lover? -and then to be passed back to her father's arms. Her father's grateful smile to his friend for catching his daughter. Julie knew her answer, and Voldemort knew it, too.

"Never," she whispered, and withdrew her hand. 

Voldemort looked profoundly, deeply hurt for a second, just long enough to distract her as he kicked and knocked her feet out from under her. Her scarred palm touched the Dark Mark and burned red-hot. She struggled to escape and Voldemort laughed at her.

"Poor, pathetic Mudblood!" he taunted her evilly.

And the world went black.

***************************** 

Donaghan was lost, and his hurt leg was bleeding still. The wolf-thing had bitten him hard and then been knocked out, so he slowed his pace. Chloe was very light, compared to the Quidditch gear, and breathed softly on his neck as she stayed out cold. The Scottish boy was very brave for his age, but he still felt scared, especially as a ghost of some sort rose in front of him.

Chloe stirred, so Donaghan held his ground. The ghost would probably just walk right through him and then disappear as the school ghosts did. A little coldness, but nothing to shake about. But was this a ghost?

It had the form and shape of a grown-up man, ordinary and yet still very brave. There was a stubborn set to his features that reminded Donaghan of himself but with more of a nobility that nothing could strip away. He had seen that face somewhere in school, he knew. One of the paintings?

"Donaghan, the Forest ends right this way."

The ghost –or was it? –led him down a slight, winding path. Every so often, who or whatever it was moved a bit closer to him, checked on Chloe, and then pointed the way on. The Scot decided to ask the ghost who he was.

"Oh, me? I'm a friend of your teacher's, and a Guardian here."

Donaghan knew about Guardians, spirits of heroic dead returned to aid the living in times of greatest need. This was deep magic, older than time itself, allowing him a safe way home. How would he thank whoever the Guardian was?

Something else occurred to him.

"Uh, sir? There's after bein' another girl in the Forest 'ere, name o' Julie, she was talkin' to a black-'aired guy."

"I know, Donaghan. There are Guardians with her just as I'm with you." The strange man smiled, and Donaghan was again struck by his familiarity.

"Should I know y' from somewhere, sir?"

"I don't know. Here's the beginning of the grounds past this aspen tree."

Donaghan patted Chloe's shoulder as they stepped out of the Forest and onto the grounds. Professors Granger and Potter ran to meet them there.

"Where's Julie?" Harry asked, and the Guardian answered:

"She is safe, Harry. You know who's watching her."

"A Guardian," Hermione breathed, recognizing the ghostly man instantly. "But you're-"

"All grown up? We're allowed to grow up, you know." The Guardian moved to her side and patted her arm. "She's fine. And Harry, I hear you've a family."

Harry suddenly sprouted a half-smile.

"Yeah, Cedric, I do."

"Cedric Diggory?" Donaghan was shocked that he hadn't known. "But y're-"

"Who better to help out the Dark Lord's 'spares'?" Cedric tapped him on the shoulder. "You did alright, friend. I've got to be going, though. 'Bye Harry."

"'Bye, Cedric," Harry whispered thankfully, before suddenly going white and looking at Hermione.

"The Dark Lord?" she asked, unwilling to believe.

Harry nodded, and it was clear what was happening.

*********************** 

"Julie?" Severus called, searching the Forest with Draco beside. "Julie, where are you?"

"Severus, I saw something."

"Where?"

"Hold on a tick."

Draco suddenly went racing through the underbrush, then stopped as if to scuffle with an enemy. Severus followed as quickly as he could, only to find Malfoy and a werewolf in a death struggle. He cursed it with the full Body-Bind, just in time to keep it from biting his friend in the neck. Malfoy flung the stinking beast off of him and stood up to look at the scared creature.

"Sev, his back's burned."

"I can see that. Somebody cursed him not too long ago- it's the Conscion Zyanai, unconsciousness."

"Julie knows that!"

"Who taught her?"

"I did, Severus!"

"Why were you-"

"Never mind, we've got to find her still_. Julie?"_ Draco called, fear beginning to show under the beard he wore. Severus didn't know whether to be pleased or heartsick about this new development, but right now he had to find his daughter. _"Julie?"_


	20. Guardians of the Heir

A/N: About some of the spells that I've made up here, 'Tryphon' was the name of an evil monk in Victor Hugo's _Les Miserables_, 'Zyanai' is the Romanized spelling of the Japanese word of negation, (so 'conscion zyanai' would be negative consciousness,) and aren't I a miserable show-off for using those? I take Japanese in school when I'm there, so if it seems like I'm saddling up my vocabulary for no reason, it's because I feel the need to practice sometimes. Oh, and in completely unrelated news, my fingers have finally calloused over from my new steel strings, though the typing probably helped with that a goodly bit. Guitars and fanfiction might mix after all. Here you go.

Chapter Twenty: Guardians of the Heir

"My Lord, I had no idea that she would-" Wormtail sputtered, certain that Julie's refusal meant he would be blamed somehow. Voldemort silenced him with an inhuman grin.

"Oh, no, it's even better that she refused. I've seen what- -and who- -is in her mind, and assuming the dungeons are still in the condition you left them in, it won't be long before she makes a mistake or two."

"Sir?"

"Think of it, Wormtail, why settle for a half-Mudblood when I could have a quarter, and a Malfoy, too? This girl's got my powers, but she'll never use them here. Her child will. And your job," Voldemort fixed Wormtail with a deadly stare, "is to make sure that she never forgets that she has those powers."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You are to act as her servant whether she will have you or not. Be as a house-elf. Do not allow yourself to be caught by her parents or schoolmates there, yet maintain your presence at least in Julie's eyes. Turn into a rat if you must. I know that that suits you incredibly."

"I-I-it sh-shall be d-done, my Lord."

"And quit stuttering! I hate that!"

"S-sorry, sir." Wormtail glanced at the clearly unconscious girl, whom Voldemort had kicked outside the pentacle. "When do you expect the girl to wake up?"

"Dawn, at least. I should be going now. Watch her from the shadows until she is found. Transform and follow her into the school, Wormtail. For this, not only I but my heir shall reward you well."

"Yes, Master."

The Dark Lord dissolved to dust.

********************** 

There was something on her head, Julie knew. She felt as if she were about to wake up from a long night's sleep, at the point where one is awake only but for their still-shut eyes. It was a little like the time she had hit her head falling off of her bicycle, this almost-awake kind of wondering. Maybe she had fallen off her broom in Quidditch practice or something silly like that and given herself another concussion. And then she remembered Lord Voldemort.

Julie felt tears burning her cheeks in the autumn night. She didn't want to open her eyes for fear of who –no, _what_ might be standing over her still. And then she realized what was on her head. Someone was patting her hair reassuringly. Was Voldemort even capable of that kind of loving touch? She guessed not, and opened her eyes slowly.

There was a lady with hair a little redder than her mother's was, and such a comforting smile that Julie wondered if she was an aunt of hers. She looked around, only to see what looked like Uncle Harry guarding her with wand drawn.

"Uh, hi," she whispered, as if to notify the lady that she was awake. "Is…You-Know-Who…gone?"

"Yes, dear," the lady replied. "Back below. Your father and teacher are coming soon."

"Are you a friend of Dad's?" Julie asked.

"Well, we were in the same class at school. I don't know him well."

"Severus?" the man –who clearly wasn't her Uncle Harry- said. "He was in Slytherin and we were in Gryffindor. He was great at Quidditch, though, almost beat us once or twice back then."

"James, Slytherin won four times while you were the Seeker, now don't go exaggerating sports again."

"Sport. Just one." The black-haired man moved closer to the ground where Julie was lying. "I understand you Seek as well for the Gryffindors."

"Yes, sir, did you know my Dad at school?"

"Regrettably."

"Stop it, James!" The lady gave him a playful swat on the shoulder then. "He and your father didn't get along at all well, I'm afraid, kind of a permanent rift between he and James."

Suddenly Julie realized just who these people were.

"But you're- you can't be-?"

"Guardians? We are. We're also Harry's parents, if you're wondering."

"Guardian angels?"

"I guess you might call us that. It's the same basic principle, anyway."

"But you aren't Muggle-born?" James inquired.

"Muggle-raised."

"Oh, yeah, now I remember. Harry's niece of sorts."

"You know what's been going on- -here on Earth, I mean?"

"Of course, dear, especially our grandchildren. Babies can see us, you know, and so can you for right now."

"Wait, how long have you been here? Didn't Voldemort-?"

"He couldn't see us anymore than he could make you choose his side. We've been watching you since you entered the Forest, Jules."

It was astonishing to Julie how father and son automatically shortened her nickname to 'Jules' sometimes. Odder still, from them she didn't mind the change.

"Thank you for making sure I was okay."

"It's our job, dear. Your father's right- here he comes."

Severus burst into the clearing and almost ran past her.

"Julie! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. Voldemort-"

"Your scar's bleeding. What happened?"

"I-"

"Julie!" Draco appeared close behind her dad. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Draco, the Potters were watching me."

"Who?"

Julie realized that Severus couldn't see them now. But judging from the shocked look poor Malfoy was giving Lily and James both, he could, and he was very surprised to see them there.

"Julie, something's happened. You've got to tell me what's just been going on."

Lily raised an eyebrow at James, who flickered and appeared to Severus's point of view. The professor was suitably shocked by this.

"'Ello, Severus. The Dark Lord came back tonight." James was grinning at the look of shock on Severus' face. "He tried to talk Julie into being his heir and all, but she refused, so he tricked her and burned her hand."

"She's been unconscious for almost half an hour, Severus," Lily added, fading into view still patting Julie's head. "I assume that the transfer of powers was quite painful."

"Transfer of powers?" Julie cried, shocked to disbelief.

"We heard him talking to Wormtail, you've got them all."

"B- but I don't want anything of Voldemort's!  I said that I'd never be his heir!"

"And you never will be," her dad promised.

Julie wasn't sure she believed him, though.

*********************************** 

The week after the Halloween Dance was worse than the one after she came back from the hospital, or even when she'd first come to Hogwarts, Julie decided. Ever since she'd returned to school with her scar coated in her own blood but not actually bleeding, the students had been incredibly suspicious she was Voldemort. A few were friendlier than ever, such as Tom and Tim Weasley and Aldous, who seemed profoundly affected by what he considered his own inability to protect Chloe. There were also a couple of girls as well, who after another of Tom-or-Tim's silly remarks to the effect of 'well, if Julie was going to be Voldemort, what in the heck would we call her then,' made a game of making words out of her three names. They were at it again when she entered the Common Room.

"Julie, would you mind getting a second middle name with a 'd' in it? I'm losing to Tim again at the game."

"You guys aren't keeping score at that?" Julie asked with a look of moderate disgust. "Honestly!"

"Well, it's not like it's just your name we play with here," Hannah Stern protested. She was a Muggle-born and very pretty; Julie suspected that one of the boys liked her. "I've figured out ten other peoples', too. Did you know the word 'severe' is in your dad's?"

"Fits, doesn't it? He gave me and Tom detentions for that potion."

Julie gave the Weasley cousin a sarcastic smile.

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear of your punishment, Timothy, and the next time I have occasion to beat my father with a wire brush I will."

"Julia!" Lucy Christie seemed totally shocked by her friend's remark. "That is not a visual I wanted, girl."

"Me neither, it just came to my dirty mind."

"Heavens, have you got a dirty mind?" Tom asked sarcastically. "At least you got something useful from Voldemort."

"I was born with a dirty mind, just ask Uncle Ron's girlfriend next time you see her."

Uncle Ron was the Auror assigned to investigate the rising of Lord Voldemort and was therefore staying at Hogwarts for awhile, with his girlfriend Judy Parkington off in some separate rooms. Julie suspected _that_ would last maybe twenty minutes before either Uncle Ron got up the nerve to propose or Judy gave up on propriety. Knowing them both, Julie was betting on the latter one. On every break he got from forensic examination of the pentacle, he was either smashing Julie and Hermione into unrecognizable tiny bits at chess or explaining things about magic to his girlfriend. Julie expected he would be explaining the wizard sport at the Quidditch match that evening, so she had put on her gloves the instant she woke up. It was a silly little sporting superstition, but she sort of believed in the gloves' granting her invincibility, since that was how they always made her feel. She also figured that the more time before a match she spent getting used to the feeling, the better she would be able to play and Seek. 

She was beginning to feel a little stupid, though, until she noticed Tom Weasley's Quidditch socks. When Aldous came in with his gloves as well, she felt a lot better and cracked her knuckles once again.

"I saw Chloe again at the hospital wing," Aldous said quietly. "Madam Pomfrey's letting her out to watch the match, so…"

"'We'd better smash those Slytherins into bits?' Really, Aldous, you're worse than Donaghan."

"Speaking of, where is our long-haired Scot today? I haven't seen him all morning and his broomstick's still on his bed."

The Captain had the worst sporting superstition of all of them: every night before a game he took his broom to bed with him like a teddy bear. Tim and Tom made a few cracks about the twig-marks on his ankles before each game, and Mack once said something truly horrible. Julie wondered if his broom minded it.

But it was true, about Donaghan being missing all that morning. He had been gone all yesterday evening as well, coming in shortly after Julie returned from her own outing. They had exchanged guilty looks and gone quickly and wordlessly up to bed. Julie felt her cheeks burning again as she thought of returning from Malfoy's at two a.m., not a happy experience by any means. 

Not that she'd done anything inappropriate, aside from the whole teacher-student thing, but she had almost run into her parents as they walked to her father's room. It was only by flattening against the wall and pretending to be a suit of armor that had kept her from losing Gryffindor the lead of House points earned by their victory over Hufflepuff. Fortunately, the elder Snapes were a little too engrossed in each other's conversation to notice the short suit of armor with no helmet. Julie still sat up straight from the memory. 

"When _is_ the Quidditch game, by the way?" Hannah asked, causing Tim to feign a heart attack and fall neatly in her lap. "Pardon me if I'm not very into sports."

"The game's at five-thirty, Hannah. Why don't you practice flying with me for a little bit before that?" Tim, still in Hannah's lap, invited her. "Maybe I can help you see the fun of it."

"That would be very nice, Tim, except I've not got a broom-"

"Borrow mine!" Julie offered emphatically. "It's right next to Anthony's cage in my room, I'll call it over here." She whispered the _'accio,'_ pretending to use her wand. The obedient broom landed on her lap, and Julie handed it to Hannah after petting it. "Nice broom. Be good for Hannah and don't make Tim look bad."

"Are they honestly alive, Julie?" Lucy asked with a skeptical, sidelong look. "I mean, the way you talk to them, sometimes I wonder, y'know?"

"Have you ever seen Muggles who talk to their cars sometimes? The sentiment's in that direction."

"Oh."

"Muggles talk to their cars?"

"Some Muggles talk to anything that holds still for them. They aren't total idiots, you know, just non-magical." Hannah was very much a defender of her old kind. 

"Some Muggles make me wonder why the wizards don't just take over," Julie observed somewhat laconically. "I don't mean kill them, but control the government. God knows why they didn't do that sooner."

Tim, Tom, Lucy and Hannah all looked in abject shock as the once-diplomatic Starcatcher listed several problems she had with Muggle government, most of them dealing with the juvenile control systems. It was as if thoughts she had either had for years or just been given were pouring out. Given the events of last Saturday, it was also unnerving.

"Julie, are you ticked with the Muggles for some reason?" 

Hannah looked nervously at her new friend, whom she hadn't quite puzzled out but didn't think would be the type to get all 'pure-bloodish.'

"Sort of. It's Miss Parkington being here, there's something that we don't agree about. I didn't mean all Muggles, actually, it's just that she reminded me of the some of the bad stuff about them. I still like them okay, if you're wondering."

"Well, do you still want to fly with me then, Hannah?"

"Sure, Tim. Julie, what do I call your broom?"

It was a silly joke, but Julie went along with it:

"Just 'broom,' actually, I haven't gotten around to naming it. Unless it's bad, then you call it something nasty involving wood. 'Piece of termite-ridden tripe' seems to straighten it out."

As soon as Hannah and Tim were gone, Tom and Lucy started up their letter game again. Julie didn't want to play, so she went down to take a walk. 

The dusty stone hallways were very nice, mysterious and cool as if air-conditioned, with paintings who smiled or frowned at her, depending on which House they belonged to. There were also fellow students who either glanced in her direction inobservantly or stared as if she'd grown a second head. A few of the Slytherins actually glared at her. Well, she would make mincemeat out of their team that afternoon, so it really wasn't any bother…

Absently, Julie bumped right into Nearly Headless Nick- -or through him and fell down onto the floor. Some Slytherins chuckled and she made a mental note to fly over their section of the stands with the Snitch in hand, gloating outrageously. Nick held out his hand as if to help her up.

"Why, little Starcatcher! I do apologize."

"For what, Nick? I tripped by my own fault." Julie sat crosslegged on the floor tying her long, undone shoelaces. "Why does everybody call me 'little' still around here? I've grown almost two inches since September and I'm not that short."

"I believe the use of the term 'little' is in your case a term of endearment due to your immediate ancestry," the ghost began in a somewhat pompous tone. "You are, after all, the scion of two –well, one beloved and one somewhat…_ infamous_ Hogwarts alumni. Your mother was the most gifted student since Minister Dumbledore, many say, and your father… well, he was a wonderful spy against the Dark Lord. I can't say much as to his teaching skills-"

"Hold on a tick! My Dad was a _spy?"_

"One of the greatest. I thought someone had told you, dear."

"Naw, nobody! What did he do?"

And that was pretty much it for the next half an hour or so. Pleased to have such a totally captivated audience, Nearly Headless Nick told Julie everything he knew about how her father had figured in the campaign against Voldemort. For a ghost, he was a very good storyteller, and Julie wondered inwardly whether he might substitute for Professor Binns someday. Eventually, however, Peeves appeared to hear the story and started singing a nasty little tune about 'long-nosed Snapes.' Ghost or not, Julie did not take kindly to those insults, and responded with an improvised limerick about small, annoying ghosts:

_"There once was a creature named Peeves,  
Very stupid, as tall as my knees  
He's tone-deaf as hell  
Like a chipped, broken bell  
So I'll send him away with a sneeze."_

"Very good, Julie!" Nick responded with a smile. Peeves made a monkey face and flew away before Julie could make up another one. "Did you make that up on the spot?"

"Sort of. It's a skill from the orphanage. When kids couldn't fight they had poem battles in the halls."

"'Be she old or be she young, a woman's strength is in her tongue.'" Nick quoted. "And yours is getting as sharp as your father's, dear. Take care not to get over-cynical."

"Cynical? Me?" Julie asked ironically with an exaggerated smile of innocence. "If Peeves lets me alone, I might stand a chance."

"I'd best be going, though, got to go mail my futile application to the Headless Hunt."

Julie remembered Uncle Harry's story about Nick's deathday party. An idea frolicked into her mind like a rabbit on caffiene with wings attached.

"What's the address of the fellow who runs that, Nick?"

"Oh, we just owl to Sir Properly-Decapitated Podmore, the owls know where to reach him. Why do you ask?"

A joke would have to cover her real reason.

"I just thought I'd ask in case Peeves offends me a bit _too_ much."

Julie relished Nick's shocked and then rather amused expression before continuing on her aimless walk around the school. More than once she stepped onto a staircase as it was about to change, simply for the sheer fun of riding it. The trick was to hold on and glance downward only out of the corner of your left eye, so that the vertigo only made you aware of how high you were, and the staircase was really a thrilling thing. Several seventh-years saw her, and it was clear that they did not share the sentiment.

It occurred to Julie that she was one kid knocking around Hogwarts on a Saturday by herself. Everyone else was with friends or at Hogsmeade somewheres. And while it was what the Weasleys would call 'a perfect opportunity for mischief,' Julie began to feel a bit lonely. Uncle Harry was probably getting lunch with Uncle Ron, so…

She'd completely forgotten about eating lunch! 'And on a game day, too, such an idiot!' she mentally cursed herself. Ah, well, if the Great Hall wasn't still open when she got there, she could always tickle the pear and go see some house-elves. Or else maybe she could just-

SMACK!

It was the second time in one afternoon that Julie'd absently walked right into somebody, except Professor Malfoy was a little more substantial, and this time she fell backwards instead of fore and landed flat on her back on the hard stone floor.

"Aw'fly clumsy for a Seeker, there, Starcatcher," Malfoy taunted playfully, offering her his hand. "I hope you don't smash into the goals as well."

The instant Julie caught her breath, she planned to respond with something equally unkind to him, but before she could do that, Malfoy kissed her gently on the lips.

"Draco!" she whispered in total shock. "This is the bloody Hogwarts entrance hall!"

"Nobody's watching us," he pointed out quietly. "Isn't it fun, almost getting caught?"

_"No! _…alright, sort of, but dangerous."

"Danger's good for us Seekers. We thrive on it."

"Do a little more thriving and you'll thrive yourself right into a swollen lip."

The double entendre of the old Muggle standby went completely over Julie's head. Malfoy, however, found it very nice.

"Go ahead, bruise me up. Use some teeth."

"Draco," Julie pleaded, "someone might hear you."

"What, afraid Mummy might give you detention, Jules?"

"I'm more afraid Daddy will have your guts for shoelaces."

Malfoy was again startled by the way Julie could go from a pleading, almost whiny fifteen-year-old to a wry adult with more innuendo in her voice than Draco'd ever heard. The possibility of any veela blood in her ancestry was nearly nil, but she could still be attractive enough to make him wonder. He also wished he could compare notes with Severus. The idea that this was completely genetic inheritance was almost as thrilling as the idea of what might go along with that. Draco patted Julie anachronistically on the head.

"I was just wondering whether my student would come and have lunch with me?"

"Funny, I was just going to lunch and wondering where my professor was."

"Then you will?"

"Of course, if you'll promise not to do that unless we're alone."

"We were."

"Are you so sure? I don't want to get nailed for liking you."

"I wasn't aware that liking was a nailable offense today."

"Only if liking leads to kissing and other things."

Dammit, she was making him blush again. And judging by that unseemly and entirely charming smirk, she knew full well and was doing it just for fun. Draco sighed and smiled. Maybe Gryffindors made okay mates for Slytherins.

******************************* 

"That," said Hermione breathlessly, "was incredible."

"I'm glad you liked it, dear. Will you be up for another a bit later on?" Severus tickled her ear and gave her a hopeful smile.

"Already? Aren't you the frisky thing today?"

"It's a good day for it. Blue skies, no sign of rain…"

"I was unaware that rain really ruined it."

"Well, if you've got wet hair in your face, it's bloody hard to see what you're doing, love, plus your robes get heavier when they're wet and you can't go as high quite as quickly."

"Oh, yeah. I remember the time Harry had with his glasses that one time in second year."

Severus had taken his wife flying on his broom with him, for when they rode that way, Hermione wasn't half as terrified. In fact, she seemed to like it a little more every time. Maybe there was hope of curing her acrophobic tendencies yet. He had burned Julie's off after an hour of flying lessons, after all. Thinking of their daughter reminded Severus of the match against Gryffindor for which his Slytherins had been training double-time.

"Dear, do you think Julie would be totally crushed if she-"

"Lost? She won't and you know it."

"Hermione, she's good, but she's not undefeatable. And if that Scot doesn't crack down and make her quit getting the Snitch before they have a chance to score, Slytherin's going to beat them for the Cup on points alone."

"Hmm. I must remember to point that out to her. Thanks, Professor."

"You really think she can't lose?"

"No, I'm just hoping she doesn't very often. Julie takes Quidditch very seriously, especially since you taught her how to play. If she lost she'd probably think you were disappointed in her and go off the deep end."

"I've got no problem with her losing to Slytherin, it's just Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff she has to smash unrecognizeable."

Hermione gave him a sidelong look.

"Alright, I want her to beat Slytherin more than I want my own House to win. But I won't be mean if she loses once or twice. Even Harry had to lose at Quidditch a few times."

"Harry says Julie's got better form than he did in seventh year."

"Damn straight she does. She also brakes too fast and her turns are nearly horizontal. At least she didn't pick up my bad tendencies on a broom."

"And what are your bad tendencies?" Hermione asked, brushing some black hair from Severus' cheek.

"I dive too sharply, almost an eighty-five degree angle down. I also turn too vertically. Watch Julie when she turns, it's almost on her side. I do the opposite. Neither one is good."

"Isn't there some kind of a book I could learn this from?"

"There's always something about flying that no writer really captures in words, m'dear. If you want to learn Quidditch, I think you'd better just stay on my brrom awhile."

"A practical lesson? How lovely." Hermione was almost as good at sarcasm as her husband. "Alright, but no really scary stuff."

"Alright." Severus smiled sneakily behind her. His definition of scary stuff was very different indeed.

Fifteen minutes later, Professor McGonagall was profoundly disturbed to discover two of her Heads of House flying around like some black-robed, two-headed bird outside. It was humorous, true, but not under the present circumstances.

"Professors, could I have a word with you?" Reluctantly they landed and smiled at her. "It's about what happened last Saturday."

*********************************** 

A/N: Well, I will tell you this much, a student will have to be leaving Hogwarts on a temporary basis soon. And the worst 'person' imaginable may catch Draco and Julie. I also expect that the Quidditch match should turn out fascinatingly, as a certain player will have to be replaced- -again, on a temporary basis. Thank you for all of the lovely and kind reviews, even the death threat emails telling me exactly what would happen if I didn't post 20 soon. 

T, B, F, & L,

-J. McN.__


	21. Lycanthropy

A/N: How did everybody know what would happen? I feel so inept now. Sigh. But here you go, anyway.

By the way, did anybody notice I always say 'here you go' before every chapter in my a/ns? What is up with that? I didn't even realize I was doing it until now.

Ah, well. Here you go.

Chapter Twenty-one: Lycanthropy

"Why don't you just let me alone?" Donaghan asked rather pathetically. Severus had arrived just in time to pull him with a charm from the window-ledge. "I don't want to be here, just let me be."

"Wouldn't that be let you cease to be, McPhersen? I know you're too bright to be really considering suicide."

Donaghan looked back at Snape with an expression of total despair.

"You know what I am, now, Professor. What good is living when I turn into –that every month? What if I kill someone? How can I ever tell her about this?"

He had honestly meant to say 'them,' but for some reason it came out 'her' instead. Luckily Snape understood and did not rebuke him for it.

"You were bitten while defending a friend ometimes when you're in your wolf form."

This idea made Donaghan feel much better. 

"Thanks, Professor Granger, Professor Snape. I won't jump out the window again."

"You're still staying up in the hospital wing tonight," Madam Pomfrey announced decisively. "I want to make sure that your symptoms progress normally."

"Symptoms? The next full moon isn't until November eighteenth, ma'am! I've got the Quidditch match-"

"I'm sure you could have someone substitute."

"But Madam Pomfrey! We haven't _got_ another Chaser!" Hermione was protesting worse than Donaghan. 

"There en't nobody else to play for us!"

"Now, now, I'm certain you could find _somebody,_" Professor Snape observed in his silkiest voice. For an instant Hermione looked at him as if he were the most traitorous person on earth, until he raised an eyebrow and she smiled with the sly meaning.

She went over past the curtain to the next bed, where she was very surprised to see a wide-eyed Chloe sitting cross-legged and taking note on what transpired on Donaghan's side.

"You are much better than Julie at eavesdropping," Hermione observed to the convalescent first-year. "Chloe, do you think you could play Chaser for the Gryffindors? I know somebody's been tutoring you 'secretly.'"

"Me, Professor? But I- I'm only a first-year?"

"It's better than forfeiting to Slytherin. Do you think you could handle it?"

"I- I- …Of course, Professor!"

"Madam Pomfrey, can Chloe go back to the tower now?"

"Hold on a moment." 

The nurse checked Chloe's eyes for dilation in the pupils, her knees for reflexes, made her hold out her hands and touch her nose with her eyes shut; a whole battery of simple sensory and capability tests. Finally, after jokingly asking the girl to do a roundoff-back handspring full with a twist, which Chloe did rather obligingly, Madam Pomfrey pronounced her fit to play in the Quidditch game.

"Why the –flippy thing?" Professor Snape asked, referring to the complicated gymnastic move.

"I was joking, Professor. Chloe here must really want to play today."

"Oh, I do, ma'am. I'm never gonna let-" Chloe rattled off a string of French words that made Professor Granger's jaw drop and ended the tirade with 'Slytherins,' "-win."

"What did you just call my House, Chloe?" Professor Snape asked very menacingly, as Donaghan giggled from his hospital bed.

"Uh…um…"

"That's alright, Chloe, better go practice for the match today." Professor Granger's eyebrows were still raised in an expression of mild shock. The instant the little first-year was gone, she made a profound observation: "I'm definitely going to have to have a word with Fleur about that child's vocabulary."

"What'd she say?" Snape asked protestingly.

"Dear, it's not something you would appreciate."

"Tell me!" he begged, like a little child who has only overheard part of an adult conversation.

Donaghan cracked up entirely. Julie's parents never failed to make him laugh.

Severus smiled. That had been his intention in doing it.

********************************* 

Julie and Malfoy were eating a splendidly Gallic lunch of bread and cheese with burgundy (watered down considerably in Julie's case,) together on the floor of Malfoy's dungeon quarters. It occurred to Draco that having a girlfriend who was not of legal drinking age by the Muggle scale might be a good idea, considering how many Malfoys had been alcoholic by their forties, his late father and uncle included there. Julie was afraid of offending him, but because of the Quidditch game and her old tendencies back at the orphanage, she was rather scared to drink alcohol. She realized she hadn't touched a cup of coffee without liquor since she was thirteen years old, until she came to Hogwarts, and the feeling of wanting to drink frightened her awfully. It was all well and good to have some butterbeer, (the alcoholic or nonalcoholic nature of which she had not yet defined by her trips into Hogsmeade with Tom and Tim,) but to be smashed before a Quidditch game and in the company of a fabulously dishy James Marsters lookalike was not a good idea at all. In fact, she suspected the cheese might not be a good idea either.

"Draco, did you get this from the house-elves downstairs?" she asked.

"No, I was planning to get some in Hogsmeade and it just appeared in here."

"Okay, appeared like a whole bunch of tiny elves put it here while you were in the shower, or appeared magically while you were actually watching the table?"

"Appeared like a house-elf brought it." Julie raised her eyebrow pointedly at him. "You haven't dug up your mother's old soap-box, now, have you?"

"Let's just say I inherited her issues with slavery. Doesn't it bother you that you can remember my mum when she was my age?"

"You don't look all that much like your mother, Jules. I mean, aside from the hair that looks like you've been electrocuted, the know-it-all eyes, the hand that's perpetually twitching as if it wants a quill in it; naw, it doesn't bother me."

"But doesn't the idea of being my teacher in another month bother you? I mean, the idea of being in a room full of fifteen and sixteen-year-olds, one of whose_ tongues_ you are quite well acquainted with?"

"That may potentially prove a little difficult, but not if you keep your flirting and good looks in check."

"Flirting? Since when do I flirt, Malfoy?"

"Since…I'm guessing, birth?"

Julie was decidedly offended by this.

"Well, provided you can keep your patrician sentiments, wealthy customs and total lack of frugality under control, I shouldn't have many problems in your class, either."

"Excuse me, little Granger-Snape, but I don't even know what patrician sentiments are."

"You wouldn't, now, would you, Professor Pureblood?"

"I know what Bohemian street-rats are."

"And I know what poor little rich boys are."

"Why are you being so cold all of a sudden?"

"I'm as cold as I'm supposed to be. How 'bout you?" 

Julie abruptly began to walk out of Draco's rooms.

"Julie, wait!"

She paid no attention. Draco chased her through the dungeons for a few minutes, only to realize at the door to Professor Snape's classroom that it was a completely different girl he'd been following. Julie went out to the Quidditch pitch and met Tim and Hannah to retrieve her broom. Flying high above the school where noone would hear her, she burst into tears about the fight she hadn't meant.


	22. Nailed

A/N: And now...here you go!

Chapter Twenty-Two: Nailed

Crying, Julie practiced turns and braking high above her school. Every so often, it became too hard to see and she brushed the unwelcome tears away with her black sleeve. She didn't know why she had picked on Draco's dependence on the house-elves, or why she had escalated it into a fight. Some of the things he had said had been really mean, true, but she had also said a few bitter things as well, especially calling him a poor little rich boy...that was entirely out of line. And asking about whether he was affected by their age difference, she guessed that was just pure Snape-side vitriol. 

Unless she had really wanted to find out how much it affected her. 

Julie didn't want to lie to her parents. And she had already had to falsify details to cover her meetings with Malfoy. She knew full well they would get caught sooner or later, by whom she had no idea, but the results would be somewhat inevitable. Draco would lose his job, certainly. She might be transferred to some other wizard school, or placed under permanent, constant watch for her 'suspicious tendencies.' And that would mean her own daughter would bear the same constant scrutiny, because what the mother and grandmother did would certainly appear in the next litter.

For a moment Julie giggled irrationally at the thought of human babies in litters. The concept of constant scrutiny for inherited tendencies was one from Professor Hagrid's class...in normal tense dealing with hippogriffs. That thought provoked the further picture of her father as a hippogriff, and she nearly fell off of her broom laughing. 

There was a shattering 'CRASH!' in the next second.

"Oww!"

As much as Julie wanted to curse aloud with all of her lovely new Quidditch words, that brief sound of pain was all she could manage. The window had splintered where normally it would shatter, and more than forty million little teensy bits of glass seemed to have lodged in her right cheek. The taste of blood in her mouth made her want to gag. One eye was burning and would not open.

"Julie!" 

The voice was Donaghan's, she dimly grasped. The next second, strong arms were lifting her from the ledge through a window that had been smashed away by his bare hand. "Madam Pomfrey, come help me, quick!"

"Good lord, how did you get in here?" the nurse asked Julie.

"She crashed her broom int'a the window there," Donaghan told her, brushing Julie's wild, loose hair away from her wounds, knowing she would be less distraught over horrible cheek scars than having some of her bushy black hair cut off. "Julie-girl, can y' hear me? Are you ar'right?"

"Yeah," Julie answered with half of her mouth closed. "Sorry 'bout the window, Madam Pomfrey."

"Never mind that, dear. Donaghan, can you put her down over here so I can strip the glass?"

Obediently Donaghan carried Julie over to what felt like a hard table with a sheet on it. The second he put her down; he crouched to her eye level and stroked her unwounded arm.

"Y'll be ar'right, Julie."

"Alright, now you're going to feel a bit o of pain while I take out the glass, Julie." 

Madam Pomfrey took out a wand and began mumbling a charm to pull the shards out. Blood surged from Julie's face as thousands of tiny bits departed to adhere to the nurse's wand. There was a strange feeling followed by warmth as a shard was pulled out of her right eye, but mainly it was all too painful to distinguish individual things.

"A _bit o' pain, y're knockin' 'er out wi' it!" Donaghan protested, noticing Julie's tears streaming from her left eye. "Can't y' zap her with some kind a' anti-pain spell?"_

"Believe me, Donaghan, if there were any less painful way, I'd take it. I don't want Julie's blood to clot, because then I might not be able to get some shards out. Hold still, now, Julie, I think I've got them all."

At that perfectly inopportune moment, Hermione came in to check on Donaghan. Instead of a usual scene with the Scots boy still in bed, she was horrified to find her own daughter there with face so bloody that but for the hair and gloves she was unrecognizable. 

"What happened?" she asked Madam Pomfrey and Donaghan. The latter pointed to the broken window that spoke for them. 

Instantly, Hermione realized what had happened. Severus had enchanted the window to be unbreakable just in case Donaghan tried to jump out again, and so, when Julie either crashed into or knocked on it -it appeared by her wounds to be the former, it had exploded with some force outwards, directly into Julie's face.

"Julie, dear, are you alright?"

"Sort of," Julie mumbled with the right side of her mouth closed. "Can I still play this afternoon?"

"She's alright," Madam Pomfrey rationalized, knowing that if she was on about Quidditch despite being that cut up, no force short of Dumbledore himself forbidding her was going to keep the Gryffindor Seeker from this game. "I'm just going to close your cuts with a charm, okay, Julie? You'll be as right as rain in a few moments."

"My eye, too?" she asked indistinctly.

"Is there something wrong with your eye?" Madam Pomfrey asked in alarm. "How does it hurt?"

"I' feels a little sharp, like a beesting."

"Oh, dear, that's not good." The round little nurse hurried over to a cupboard and brought back what looked like a telescope. "Julie, we're going to make you lie on your back for a few minutes, I'm going to check for a slice in your cornea."

"Wha'?" Julie asked.

"A papercut on yehr eyeball," Donaghan clarified.

"Oh."

Madam Pomfrey and Hermione shot the Scot a grateful look. His simplistic, greatly downplayed definition had calmed Julie considerably. It was clear from the way he took Julie's hand and would not let go, however, that he knew full well what was going on from a medical point of view.

"Why do you have your Quidditch gloves on, Julie?" Hermione asked.

"It's the day of a game," Donaghan explained. "We all have our tricky little quirks."

"Speak for yourself," Julie retorted weakly. "Are your ankles bruised up much from last night?" There was a silence before she apologized: "Sorry, Donaghan."

"Ankles?" Hermione was giving her daughter and the Scot both a very suspicious look.

"I take m' broom t'bed like a teddy bear before ev'ry game, 'Fessor," Donaghan clarified. "I'm not sure why, but it seems ter' bring me good luck."

"And she wears her gloves the whole day before. Sporting superstitions."

"Precisely," the young Gryffindors answered in unison. 

Madam Pomfrey had now assembled the telescope-like apparatus and was bending over Julie to look at her eye. 

"Alright, Julie, now I need you to hold really still, okay? I'm just going to look at your eyes, it won't hurt a bit."

Julie nodded and dutifully held still. Donaghan had her left hand, so her mother took her right. Madam Pomfrey hemmed and hawed for a while before finally observing aside to Hermione just how serious the 'eye papercut' was. 

"There is a possibility she might not regain her sight in her right cornea...we have to let it heal the Muggle way."

"Isn't there-?"

"There's very little I can do but ward off infection here. It's not a bad cut, but the location makes Healing Charms very risky. If for any reason it were to swell...I'd say a bandage and an eyepatch for the next two weeks. No Quidditch."

"Of course, Poppy. Will she have to stay up here tonight?"

"I believe that would be the best course of action in this particular case...I would also get ahold of Severus and Minerva to negotiate a delayed game."

"Julie's not going to like that idea. They've already delayed one game this season because of her."

"I'm sure Severus can think of a truly Slytherin way to get around that hitch, especially with Donaghan out of the game as well. Perhaps a faculty match instead might ease the students' disappointment at the game's delay?"

****************************** 

"Hell, yeah!"

Sometimes Severus overdid things just a bit.

"Of course, Hermione," Professor McGonagall responded with a slightly demented little gleam in her eye. "I think I myself would like to play Chaser for Gryffindor."

"I'm Chasing for Slytherin against you, then."

"But Sev dear," Hermione began in an over-sweetened voice that would have sent any self-respecting house-elf into insulin shock; "I had hoped you would be watching our daughter during the match."

"Aw, but McPhersen and Poppy can look after her! I want Julie to see Draco and me make mincemeat out of Harry and Minerva."

"Draco and I, dear, and I don't think she'll enjoy watching both of her parents slug it out out there."

"You're playing, too?"

"It's me or Neville, dear. I think I'd be a good Keeper, wouldn't you say?"

Professor McGonagall nodded her head emphatically.

"But you hate to fly!" Severus protested.

"Not since this afternoon. I think it's rather fun, challenging, strategic and all that rot. Do you honestly think you can beat me, dear?"

"Tied up and with a wire brush. But let's not subject Minerva to my kinky fantasies."

"Severus!" The Headmistress was scandalized. Hermione, however, didn't blink an eye.

"Hmm. Do we have a bet, then, dear?"

"A bet?" Severus's pointy nose began to twitch like a bunny's. "The loser has to-?"

"Submit to whatever the winner can come up with -their kinkiest fantasy."

"Hmmm."

"You two are sick! I can't believe that you're teachers here."

"Come now, Professor McGonagall, we weren't always just teachers here." Hermione gave the Headmistress one of her very best childish grins. If making her ex-Transfiguration professor blush and send Severus from the room was Hermione's intention, the little grin surely did its' job alright.

"That was one of the most sincerely disturbing pictures I've had in my mind all year, Hermione! I'm tempted to lose and see whether you sit down the next day."

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione feigned absolute surprise at this. "I had something very nice in mind should the Slytherins lose. Care to hear?" Despite Minerva's shaking her head, Hermione continued, "It involves Severus's costume for breakfast the next morning..."

"Leather and chains?"

"I was thinking just robes that weren't black. But if that's what you're after, I'm sure I could-"

"No, colorful robes are perfectly okay by me!" 

Professor McGonagall didn't like admitting when she had been well and truly messed with to further a sly intent, but when Hermione did it, it was so gracefully that she had no problem owning up to having been played like a violin all the way. "You are aware that you're playing with fire with your Slytherin?"

"Don't I know it," Hermione said carelessly. "Oh, well. At least this little injury got Julie back with Donaghan. I was worried that her Slytherin might be someone dangerous."

"Julie's Slytherin?" Minerva asked curiously.

"Yeah, there's some guy she likes, 'he's a Slytherin' is all that I've heard so far. I'd rather see her with Donaghan, I mean, except for the whole werewolf thing, he's a lot nicer than many of the boys I've seen."

"Or Malfoy?"

"Decidedly nicer than Malfoy. Why, he runs circles around that-"

Hermione froze. Minerva was showing her something from earlier in the All-Show. There was Julie running smack into Malfoy and falling down, him helping her up, what looked like a few insults between the two and then...he kissed her. That...that Slytherin was kissing her baby girl. And worst of all, Julie was liking it. 

"I saw this in the Entrance Hall this afternoon," Minerva clarified. "I'm beginning to wonder if this was the first time it happened, because neither of them is foolish enough to engage in something so dangerous in such an open view, unless it was just Draco's chance to make his feelings known."

The connection of Malfoy's first name to the idea of his having feelings for her daughter was like hitting Hermione with a bat.

"Professor McGonagall, he's seven months older than me!" she cried.

"Well, now, technically, you're a year and eight months older than him now because of the Time-Turner," Professor McGonagall pointed out, "and there's a smaller age difference than the one between you and Severus, dear."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to let that bastard go around snogging my daughter!"

"That's hardly a fair way to look at things."

"Fair? FAIR? You be the fair one, Professor, I'm going to rip off Malfoy's head for this."

"Now you're just being plain violent."

"I'm going to be a lot more violent when I find him!"

"Hermione, stop it!" The words were like smacking her in the face. "When has the angry approach got you anywhere? I hate to say it, but you're going to have to handle this like a Slytherin. You must not let Malfoy know, you must definitely not let Severus know, and above all you must not let Julie know."

"Then what's the point of knowing?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"Because now you can break them up humanely," Professor McGonagall told her, as if this were the obvious conclusion. "You know, if Albus had let me know about you and Severus, you'd have a whole fleet of little bushy-haired Weasleys now. I think he saw something between you is the only reason why he didn't have me break you up."

"You say that as if it was your area."

"Still is, dear, breaking up inappropriate relationships. You'd be startled how many Slytherin temptresses have tried to get their oily hands on Gryffindor boys -and girls, and sometimes I didn't step in in time."

"You mean to say there are...?"

"There are always a few sexual predators in any community with Slytherins. I believe it's a result of all the Dark wizards' inbreeding."

"Damn straight Malfoy's a sexual predator."

"No, he's a lonely wizard with an unfortunate taste for dark-haired Gryffindors. Can you remember the last time you used his first name?"

Hermione couldn't answer.

"See? Most wizards won't give him the time of day except for what his mother did, and looking so much like his father doesn't help at all. Everyone calls him a pureblood behind his back, he had two friends growing up and that's _it,_ and then he unfortunately falls in love with someone impossible. Sound familiar?"

"You aren't saying-!"

"Well, let's take it from Julie's point of view, then. She grew up in hell. I'm not going to make any points about the orphans' camaraderie or all that rot; she grew up in hell, plain and simple. She's learned to make a life out of scraps and ends and survive on her own since she was very small, amid the very dregs of the Muggle world. And suddenly she finds out the truth of things. She's a witch. She's got a whole new world of magic and freedom now. And as if that wasn't wonderful enough, she finds her family. In the space of not more than forty-eight hours, Julia Starcatcher, orphan, becomes Julia Starcatcher Snape, witch and aspiring Quidditch player. It's enough to boggle any child's mind. Except she knows next to nil about the wizarding world. Harry can tell you how annoying it is to have every third item explained to you, even if it is in the kindest way. She's as bright as you were at that age, you know, she wants a chance to use that great mind of hers. And suddenly, a wizard comes along to challenge her intellect. A wizard-born who wants to know Muggle stuff. And who better to teach him than Starcatcher? I know full well why Malfoy wants to know Muggle facts, and knowing him, I'd bet the interest would have died long ago except for Julie's teaching making it interesting."

"So you think that I should just let them...go ahead?"

"No, because while it's good for Draco, it could do Julie a world of harm. It may be starting already, the jokes about fancying teachers just like her mother did and such; you know what she's going to go through with that. And let's face it, her father would kill Malfoy. Why don't you see how she's acting toward Donaghan? Maybe this will burn itself out like her first crush on the Captain did, and she'll go back to dating guys her own age."

"Alright. But what about the Quidditch game?"

"Malfoy will be Seeking for the Slytherins. Julie will be watching from the window with Donaghan."

"Okay, then. Maybe this isn't as bad as I think."

"You're right. It's still possible he only kissed her as a joke or as part of some plot just to mess with us."

"Never assume with those Slytherins, though."

"Including your daughter." Professor McGonagall observed.

**************************** 

Blindness did not agree with Julie Starcatcher. Madam Pomfrey assured her that after tomorrow she would only need the right eye bandaged to ward off an infection spread to both eyes, but after only half an hour Julie was getting very tired of this not seeing. Donaghan had to stop her twice from taking the bandage off, once with her knife, which he took, and again with one of Madam Pomfrey's scalpels, which she stole. Unfortunately, it was enchanted not to cut anything unless it was in Poppy's hand, and Julie wound up sitting on a bed in the corner muttering to herself.

"Damned...dratted...can't see to...I'd think I'd..."

Donaghan couldn't really grasp what she was saying. Being around a blind Julie was a little like being around a mental patient -unnerving. Finally she sat bolt upright on the bed.

"I've got it!" 

Julie got up and walked toward Donaghan, promptly tripping and falling on the ground again.

"You know, without my broom, I am a klutz," she observed, attempting to find him again in the dark caused by her bandages. "That's four times today that I've fallen down."

"D'you count the time through the window as one of them?"

"Five, then."

"Maybe...here, use yehr broom as a guiding stick." He handed her the Firebolt and guided her to his bed. "Better?"

"Much. How did you figure that?"

"Well, y' said tha' without your broom y' thought y'were a klutz. An' I know y' aren't, so the broom to help you see seemed only logical."

"I meant that I was only moderately graceful on the Quidditch field, as opposed to the falling-down wreckage I am normally."

"Y're incredibly graceful on the Quidditch field, an' also on the dance floor, an' at school, everywhere y'are." Donaghan was still scared to admit that he still liked her, but he wasn't about to let her speak so self-deprecatingly. "You've always had this air when y' walk around, like 'nobody messes with me, I'm Julie Starcatcher.' You had it when you walked up to the Sorting Hat, and when you walked through the barrier at King's Cross, I was watchin' y'."

"So you don't think I'm clumsy?"

"Not in the slightest bit. So maybe you were 'avin' an off day today, tripped and fell down a bit. You could do worse, only-girl."

His old name for her echoed in Julie's mind, bringing back memories of the two men at Hogwarts she'd come to like. On one side of a vast chasm was Donaghan, the perfect example of right and good and Gryffindor, and on the other side was Draco, a slouching, drawling, pure-blooded Slytherin. Which one to choose? Even if Donaghan still liked her, would he take her back? And could she handle the secrecy that a relationship with her Charms teacher entailed? Right now she couldn't even see her hands, let alone make a decision on relationships. If Madam Pomfrey hadn't ordered her not to cry she would have burst into tears then and there, but as it happened, she just hugged Donaghan suddenly.

"I've missed you a lot in these past few days. Why were you hiding here?"

"I wasn't hidin', Julie, Madam Pomfrey wouldn' let me leave."

"Well, what's wrong? I can't see anything, but you-" she began to tickle him mercilessly, "feel alright."

Donaghan laughed and began to tickle her right back. 

"Y' feel good, y'reself, Julie, s'pecially with these old clothes on." He was not necessarily referring to the clothes but to the body under them. Julie stopped suddenly, but Donaghan did not pull back.

There it was, the long-missing element. Donaghan was good, but he was much _too _good. He had never done anything she hadn't tried before back at the orphanage, thus losing her interest in a few short weeks. But now with one slightly off-color remark he had restored her curiosity. Draco was bad, sort of, a kind of forbidden fruit, and Julie decided maybe the fights weren't going to be worth it. She kissed Donaghan fervently on the cheek.

"Can I have you back, Captain?" she asked quietly.

"Not until you answer my questions, Seeker," Donaghan began in a mock-stern voice, grateful for her blindness that she could not see his happy smile. "Why did y' break it off with me in th' firs' place, if'n y' were just intending to take me back like a…a fish y' 'ad hooked? I'm nobody's salmon, and I'll not play this game with y'."

"I don't know what made me break things off with you. Boredom, maybe? I was tired of you always being so good with me, never breaking any rules or taking any risks, you know? It's not like I'm some innocent little girl you have to be careful with, despite my ather's fond illusions to the contrary."

"Well, how innocent aren't y'?"

"Donaghan,   
_I've been kissed under moonlight,  
Danced with in the dark  
I've drunk champagne in the forest  
And gone barefoot in the park  
Nothing's new to me  
If you'll excuse me  
There is no romance in my life."_

"But that's terrible!"

"That's life in the Muggle world."

_"If y've seen all the wonders  
That life has to give  
If y'll pardon me askin',  
Why bother to live?  
It's all new t' y',  
When love's true t' y',  
Everyone needs romance in their life."_

"Donaghan, it's a lost cause. I'm used to everything. By the way, why are we bursting into song again?"

"I don' know. It's romantic!"

"I'm used to it!"

"Are y' used to someone burstin' into song with y'?"

"Well, no. But then, Muggles aren't as eccentric as wizards are!"

_"All y' need is love,"_

"Alright, excepting them."

_"All y' need is love,"_

"Don't you dare start singing again!"

_"All y' need is love!"_

_"Love is just a game._ I can't believe you're quoting a Muggle film-"

_"Cherish is the word I use to describe,"_

"You aren't!"

_"All the feeling that I have hiding here for you inside,  
You don't know how many times I wish that I had told you,  
You don't know how many times I've wished that I could hold you,   
You don't know how many times I've wished that I could mold you into someone   
Who could cherish me as much as I do you."_

_"Don't try this game with me,  
I've played a few too many rounds  
Don't try to make me see  
Love isn't real, it's just a lie  
Told to children and fools!"_

Donaghan placed a finger on Julie's lips.

"You don't believe that?"

"I have since my brother died."

"What about your parents? They love y'."

"That's the only kind."

"Y' mean y' really don' think you can ever fall in love?"

"I can like someone and pass the time, but for me there's no such thing as love."

"But Julie…I love you."

Three little words, with more magic in them than any spell on Earth. Despite Madam Pomfrey's warning, Julie felt her eyes tear.

"Donaghan, I-"

"Say only what y' mean."

_"I don't know what this feeling is,  
But suddenly everything I've ever felt beside it seems so very small…  
You don't know how many times I wish that I had told you  
You don't know how many times I've wished that I could hold you  
You don't know how many times I've wished that I could mold you into someone  
Who could cherish me as much as I do you."_

_"And I do,  
Cherish you,"_

_"And I do,  
Cherish you."_

_"Cherish is the word…"_

********************************************** 

Warming up before the Quidditch game, Malfoy took another drink of the pumpkin juice that the house-elves had brought for him. Remembering what Julie had said about his needing house-elves made him want to smack the little being away, but instead he gave it his towel and told it to go away.

Absently, he got on his broom and began to whistle. Before he knew it he was singing aloud just as absently:

_"Let's talk about me for a minute  
Well, how do you think I feel about what's been going on?  
Let's talk about me for a minute  
Well, how do you think I feel about what's been going on-"_

No, that was exactly the kind of self-centered, patrician way of looking at things she had nailed him on. Dammit, did she have to be right about everything? He searched his mind for something else to hum as he practiced turns.

_"Raven hair and movie lips  
Sparks fly from her fingertips  
Echoed voices in the night  
She's a restless spirit on an endless flight  
Oo-who witchy woman  
See how high she flies  
Oo-who witchy woman  
She got the moon in her eyes…"_

Well, that described his present girlfriend perfectly, but the tenor range was a little too high for him. Again Draco tried desperately to think of something to take his mind off their fight.

_"Fast as you can  
Baby run free yourself of me  
Fast as you can…"_

No! There was no way on earth he was going to flutter around like an idiot singing a Muggle chick song. Not happening. Nope. Damn Julie and her vintage rock music.

_"I'm just mad about saffron  
And saffron's mad about me,  
I'm just mad about saffron  
She's just mad about me  
They call me Mellow Yellow-"_

Now this was beyond human tolerance! Whichever one of those damned Weasley boys had spiked his drink with potion again, he was going to personally gut them and have them stuffed. 

As if flying over the almost-full stands of the Quidditch Pitch singing 'Mellow Yellow' at the top of his lungs wasn't totally awful, Malfoy had the distinctly unfortunate privilege of discovering each and every student from Gryffindor was singing the Red Lions fight song, whilst the Slytherins were singing that of the Green Serpents in perfectly discordant counterpoint. It was a little like a cross between Wagnerian opera and a hockey game.

Worst of all, Professors Snape and Granger were leading it. From the air it sounded like neither could carry a tune in a bucket. But when Draco flew up sharply behind his ex-Potions master, it was clear where Julie got her perfect diction and good lower register. Severus was an excellent baritone.

Hermione, however, still sounded like a cat was being strangled by the Gryffindors. Malfoy flew up behind her and received a similar shock; she wasn't bad at all. Either the Quidditch pitch was abysmally designed acoustically, or there were so many Off-Key charms being cast between both sides that nobody had a chance of sounding good except from three feet away. 

Draco decided this was the latter as he joined in the Green Serpent song and immediately realized his profound blunder. His joining brought Hagrid into it for the Gryffindors, and then Professor Sinistra for the Slytherins, then Harry and Professor McGonagall for the Gryffindors, until the entire stadium sounded more profoundly awful than the time a flobberworm ate too much and exploded with deafening flatulence. 

Watching from the Hospital Wing, Julie and Donaghan wondered what the beautiful singing was.

At last both songs ended and the Quidditch game began. Draco whispered an almost inaudible expletive followed by the word 'Weasleys,' who were actually sitting in the stands as confused as he. 

The whistle blew and Draco set out to look for the Snitch. Harry got away with the Wronski Feint twice before he quit marking his opponent's trail. There was a bell, Gryffindor had scored.

Professor McGonagall did an airy little backflip, showing off just a tiny bit, only to be given a royal scowl from Severus. Professor Sinistra knocked a Bludger in her direction.

The Headmistress zipped away at the last second, only to realize Severus had gotten hold of the Quaffle. He threw it, it was very close-

And Hermione pulled off a daring save. Harry stopped flying to cheer a bit and got a Bludger in the back for his team spirit. This was really turning into a dirty game. Fortunately, Harry scored on the penalty shot to Gryffindor and the score was set at twenty-zero then. Neville, who was playing Beater after all, sent a Bludger in the direction of Severus, only to tragically miss by about seven feet. 

It was not necessary to state who got knocked off her broom.

 Severus immediately dropped the Quaffle and dove to catch his wife before she hit the ground. Either this was considered heroic or she really was a students' favorite; as even the Slytherins applauded this. The game was momentarily paused while she got back on her broom, and then Severus sent the Quaffle at her goal again.

She missed.

Figures.

Just then, Neville's second Bludger knocked the wind out of Severus. Another from Professor Sinistra knocked the wind out of Neville. Draco kicked Harry in the face. Hermione took Professor Sinistra's bat away and bonked her with it. Ron (the other Gryffindor Chaser) kicked Malfoy in the gut. Professor McGonagall scored again in the confusion. The referee tried to take the bat away from Hermione and gave up even trying when he saw the look on her face. Severus scored against the Gryffindors. Hermione looked like she was going to bonk him next. Just then, Harry got the Snitch and it was all over.

"Well, do you still like flying?" Severus asked. Hermione gave him a piercing look, then smiled as if nothing at all had gone wrong.

"Actually, this game was kinda fun. Professor Sinistra, are you okay?"

Her coworker gave her a thumbs-up despite the large bruise forming on her head. Ron and Malfoy were still fighting and nobody really bothered to break them up. A few Slytherins actually placed bets on the outcome of the fight. Finally Harry and Hagrid went over and pulled them apart like still twitching Velcro. Ron's girlfriend was terrified by all of this.

Donaghan had commented as unobjectively as he could, but for some reason, Julie was still cracking up. After all, it was kind of humorous to her point of view. Except when Donaghan told her that Ron and Malfoy were still squaring off, that made her nervous. Normally when one's ex is being smashed into unrecognizable pulp and not just at chess, it is a happy occasion worth celebrating.

But what if he didn't know that he was her ex?

********************************************* 

A/N: Alright, song credits.  
'No Romance In My Life' by Janalyn McNeville (Falconers,) 2002  
'All You Need is Love' by Lennon & McCartney (Beatles,) 1968  
'Cherish' by Terry Kirkman (The Association,) 1966  
'Love Isn't Real,' by Janalyn McNeville (Falconers,) 2002  
'Let's Talk About Me' by Woolfson/Parsons (The Alan Parsons Project,) 1984  
'Witchy Woman' by Don Henley (The Eagles,) 1977  
'Fast As You Can' by Fiona Apple, 1999  
'Mellow Yellow' by Donovan Leitch, 1966

I'm sorry about the whole bursting-into-song thing happening again, and I promise to tell you who's responsible next chapter. Okay? Reviews, food for the starving plot bunnies!


	23. The Servant of Lady Catherine

A/N: Yes, there was a problem with Ch. 22- I've reloaded it, though. Must be my antique computer. Sigh. And I'm sorry for not catching that earlier, as well as for my aimless self-promotion in last chapter's song credits. See, I've been accidentally writing songs when I do my outlines for this, and if I wrote all of them down we'd have a musical version with electric drums, very solid keyboard riffs, pathetic dual-guitar that has to be overdubbed to within an inch of it's life to be audible, and starring Ewan McGregor as Donaghan, James Marsters (the great singing British-dish,) as Malfoy…any other good casting ideas please review this tripe. Because it is tripe. I am a tripemonger. I can't write myself out of a paper bag. Here you go. (Depressed lonely sigh.)

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Servant of Lady Catherine

Julie fell asleep shortly after the Quidditch game, injuries, blindness and laughter having worn her out totally. Donaghan put her gently in the bed next to his and took out a textbook he was studying. There weren't very many illustrations, but the text had a great deal of useful information about werewolves, including a list of their non-Transformation day symptoms. Quickly, he got out some parchment, but didn't have a quill. Oh, well. She'd have lent it to him anyway. He stole Julie's.

"Bloody wolf stuff," he muttered, scribbling down a list of all of the things he'd be doing soon. It included such unsavory items as:

'1. Growth of feet to full proportion if bitten before age of fifteen or so  
2. Sudden allergies to certain plants that wolves find abhorrent  
3. Unusual taste for rare, even uncooked meat for two weeks prior to transformation  
4. Tendency to scratch head with back foot as a dog might do  
5. Greater sensitivity in moustache (see Whiskers)'

Darn good thing he had learned to shave after that potion went wrong, Donaghan observed. He didn't want his whiskers being able to tell heat from cold or scratch Julie on the cheek when he licked her face-

Hold on a second.

'6. Unusual thought patterns, thinking as a wolf might'

Damn, that was weird. He made a small check next to number 6, as it was clear he was now thinking like a wolf. He pressed on with the list he was writing down.

'7. Enhanced sensitivity in olfactory organs  
8. Enhanced perception of human pheromones  
9, Wolfish ability to determine endocrine-related conditions'

Now what the hell did all that mean? He wished Julie was awake so he could ask her about these difficult words. The glossary in the back told him that 'endocrine' related to the glands, 'pheromones' were a kind of scent that humans released almost imperceptibly when they were scared, angry, or wished to attract their mate, much like some kinds of insects did. 'Olfactory organs' turned out to mean his nose. 

On a whim, Donaghan went over and sniffed Julie.

Well, that was one nice wolf ability to have. Julie smelled like fall leaves and breadcrumbs, a little bit of wine, too, like a French bakery in autumn. She also smelled rather strongly of something he recognized, and there turned out to be a bag of what looked like Every Flavor Beans in just one color in her robe pocket. He sniffed them too. They were the Muggle kind. On the rationale that she would get overwarm, Donaghan removed her robes and put them over the footboard of the bed. He discovered two more bags of Muggle jellybeans. 

So his girlfriend _did_ have an addiction –to Muggle junk food! Donaghan smiled at the humor of this new information and removed both of her leather boots. To his horror, a spare knife in a scabbard and a suspicious-looking flask had been hiding in them just above her ankles. He opened the flask and sniffed it, then laughed with relief when he realized just what it was.

It was Polyjuice Potion, with some of his hairs. He easily recognized the red-brown fiber still stuck to the threads of the flask's opening, and it would explain why Tom and Tim had been giggling throughout the Halloween feast. She must have gotten back at them for making his hair all long with the Terpsichora Potion that went awry. Sweet girl. Donaghan kissed her on the cheek as her Uncle Ron entered. Uh-oh.

"You must be the Slytherin I've heard about," the red-haired man observed by way of prelude. "Don't you even think you're getting into bed with her, I know your kind."

"Uh… I'm in Gryffindor, and I'm one of her Quidditch mates." Best not let her uncle stay suspicious of him for long. Ron relaxed, and Donaghan could actually smell the change in attitude as his pheromone pattern changed to one of friendship and complete good will.

"Oh. Then that'd make you Donaghan McPhersen, Chaser and Captain. I'm Ron Weasley, I played the same spot for Gryffindor."

"Oh, neat! I knew that y' were one of Professor Granger's friends, I mean, Julie refers to y' as 'Uncle Ron' and all."

"Yeah, it's weird to have a niece who looks up to you. My nephews are on the team, too, but they're almost five-ten."

"Tom and Tim call Julie 'little coz,' y' know. It's sort of funny when you notice that she doesn't look like them at all."

"'A case of purely honorary family,'" Ron quoted. "After the war and us all growing up together, her mum seems just like a sister now. Did you see that save she made in the Quidditch game? Wonder what book she got that one from."

"Julie and I had to watch from up here, except she's got to keep both her eyes bandaged for the next two days, so I kind of told her what was going on."

"Did she laugh?"

"Almost fell down."

"That sounds like her. I was coming up here to see if Madam Pomfrey could do anything about these- " Ron pointed to some spectacularly bruised, nearly broken ribs, "but since she isn't here yet, I'll stay and talk to you."

"If y' don' mind me askin, how much of that's Quidditch and how much of that's beatin' 'Fessor Malfoy up?"

"Oh, I think this little mark here's from a Bludger, the rest of it's from beating Malfoy up. He needed it."

"A better justification I've never 'eard."

"What happened to Julie?"

"See that window?"

"Yeah?"

"Two hours ago she had half of it in her face. She crashed, it splintered, some major 'ow.'"

"Yikes. And she got it in both eyes?"

"Naw, just the right one, qui' luckily. But Madam Pomfrey's got to let it 'eal the Muggle way, so both eyes are bandaged up to keep infections out."

"Poor kid. Broomstick through the window? I've done that, too. Except I only took a little scratch on my arm. Why would it shatter that way?"

"There were a charm on it to keep me from gettin' out."

"Why...oh, you're the one," Ron gave Donaghan a look.

"Exactly, sir. The werewolf. I tried jumpin' out."

"Don't you realize how brave you are to not jump, though? One of my favorite teachers here was a werewolf, I'll have Harry owl him for some advice on...werewolf things."

"Well, I've already got a list from this textbook here."

Ron looked over the list and smiled at a few of the things Donaghan'd copied.

"I haven't the faintest what the last three are, but if you can really scratch your head with your foot, I say that's a neat trick."

"The last three mean that I can smell things really really well. Watch." Donaghan sniffed Ron rather thoroughly. "Alright, the last thing y' ate was a cheese sandwich, y' drank some butterbeer before the game, and there's the smell of grass all over y'. That must be from fightin' on the Quidditch pitch with Malfoy."

"That's really great! Here, sniff Julie. What has she been at?"

"I've already sniffed her. She had Muggle jellybeans hid throughout her clothes like a secret drunk."

"That's my niece. Here," Harry entered the room and Ron grabbed his arm. "Smell Harry."

"I don't want to be smelled now, thanks," Harry said, confused by these proceedings. "What's going on here? –oh, Donaghan." Harry tried to smile at his student as if things were alright, but somehow there was nothing he could say to someone turned werewolf. Donaghan, however, just sniffed his robe.

"Cornstarch, butterbeer, and baby food. He's been feedin' the twins their dinner."

"That's exactly it!" Harry was impressed by Donaghan's new gift. "Is that one of the –er, side effects?"

"Yeah, 'ent it cool, Professor? I haven't quite told Julie 'bout the- well, y'know."

"I don't think she'll be freaked out by it. It's kinda neat." Ron was looking around the Hospital Wing to maybe find something new for Donaghan to sniff. It was like getting a bloodhound that talked suddenly. "Hey! Do you think you could help me with some Auror stuff? I've been analyzing that bloody pentacle in the Forest for a solid week now, and-"

"Ron," Harry chided, "are you asking Donaghan to help you with your homework now?"

"Sort of."

"Ron! Think of what Hermione will say to you!"

"I'll say what?"

"Well, speak of the devil."

"Julie's after bein' asleep, 'Fessor Granger. Y're friends are 'ere."

"Oh." Hermione went over to Julie's bed and adjusted the coverlet up to her daughter's neck. "How'd you like the Quidditch game, Donaghan?"

"I' was perfect, 'Fessor Granger, little dirty, though."

"A little? It was the filthiest game since we played the Americans." Harry's stint on England's national team had been marked by two World Cups and several nasty injuries. "I haven't seen such a bloodbath since we played Slytherin in my third year."

"And you, 'Mione, beating Professor Sinistra with a Bludger-bat. What kind of nonsense was that about?" Ron was mimicking his friend's chiding nature about offensive fouls.

"She hit Neville,"

"Who hit Severus! You've no loyalty."

"Yes, I have," Hermione protested. "I just… don't use it during a Quidditch game."

"So it's perfectly alright to foul your friends off their brooms?"

"Well, she did it!" Helplessly, Hermione indicated her daughter, who stayed fast asleep.

"She did it to a Slytherin, in a game."

"Well, so did I!"

"But you're a grown-up, and you should know better, dear," Severus pointed out in his silkiest and most knees-turning-into-water voice, coming up very sneakily behind his wife. "So, what have you thought of now that you've won that bet?"

"Oh, several very er- _fascinating _diversions for later on…if you aren't as bruised up as Ron is, dear."

"Oh, I'm perfectly fit for anything you like. If Julie's asleep and under Poppy's care…"

"Madam Pomfrey's out," Harry and Ron chirped in unison, totally shocked by the way these two professors were carrying on in almost broad daylight.

"Well, I'm sure that you two can watch her then. Ta, ducks."

Hermione swept out a bit like Professor Trelawney might, leaving jaws dropped and Donaghan paralyzed. Severus turned his head to leer at her friends, who were in an advancing state of mental rigor mortis and then closed the door.

"Is that the best you could think of?"

"The look on Harry's face! Did you see them, dear?"

"I am never doing that again."

"Come on, dear, I've got a whole _list_ of ideas for you to work off tonight. Maybe I can break one of you Snapes of this gambling thing."

Back in the hospital wing, Julie had been faking sleep fairly well.

"Cor bly'me, _parents mating, _this is worse'n Hagrid's class! I am so glad they thought I was out for that."

"Weren't you?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Nope. I woke up about when you asked Donaghan to sniff Harry. For about five minutes after I thought it was a bad dream, but when Mum got all Mae West-like on you guys, I knew it was the nightmare from hell again. You guys can have some of those jellybeans, the reds are hot cinnamon, and the greens are mint."

"So, how's you're eye?" Harry asked, noting the way she seemed totally sick of the bandages.

"Hurts like hell, but I think I'm used to it. These damn bandages are really what ticks me off."

"Got to leave 'em on, though, Julie," Donaghan warned, giving her arm a stroke. "I found the knife in y're boot and the flask as well."

"Are you carrying knives again?" Harry chided her. "I've told you twice, you're going to cut yourself."

"I've carried a knife since I was six years old, I think I'm somewhat past likely to cut myself."

"Why would you need a knife when you were six?" Ron asked.

"Because a six-year-old's too small to defend herself," Julie explained rather detachedly. "You've got a ten, maybe eleven-year-old, small frame, they don't really need the knife as much, unless they're up against six- or eighteen-year-olds. Then they need it worse, because the six-year-olds only have to fight ten- or eleven-year-olds. Basically, every girl's got a blade."

"Why?" Ron was entirely horrified.

"Think about it. This is also the place where we got Voldemort. It's cleaned up a great deal in recent years, I'm told, but you still get a little scared when you've heard what can happen there. So I carry a knife because it's a safe move. One of the many side effects of growing up a Broughton kid."

"I had no idea Muggle orphanages were that bad," Donaghan said quietly. "Did I ever tell y' I was Muggle-born?"

"No, seriously?" This genuinely surprised Julie, who would have thought Donaghan entirely wizard-born.

"M'dad was a lawyer and my mum was a Squib, y'kna, so when they got killed I went to live with Grandfather Donegal in the castle near Edinburgh. So I'm really a part-Muggle, or Muggle-raised up until I was five or so."

Julie was surprised by the calm way Donaghan was able to speak of this, but considering it was now that he told her instead of months ago, it was probably as hard for him to discuss as some of the things she'd spent her childhood afraid of. It occurred to her that she had a lot more in common with him than with Malfoy, and her decision to take up with one and break up with the other seemed even more sound. The only question left so far was 'how'.

************************************** 

"Still at the game, coz?" Tom Weasley asked. Hannah and Tim were playing it again with Julie's name as they ate dinner in the Great Hall that night.

"Yep. She knows a lot more words than I do, though."

Hannah moved the letters around again. With a very few left over, she had found the name 'Catherine' within Julie's.

"Well, that's not very intimidating. Imagine, 'She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' is just Catherine. That's a _cat's_ name."

"I take it you haff not studied Russian or Bulgarian history, then," Alexei observed, quietly stepping into the conversation as he sometimes did. "Catherine the Great was the most infamous of all the Russian empresses, from a Bulgarian point of view. I don't think it's not a scary name." With that little moment of doomwailing, the Slytherin again retreated back to his own table. Tom and Tim were not pleased by this.

"If he's going to be so dismal, why doesn't he do it on his own side of the Hall?" Tim asked.

"He's Julie's friend, I can understand his worrying." Aldous was absently removing all the pickles from his sandwich and trading them with Chloe for her onions. "Maybe he's not so bad for a Slytherin."

"Well, I still don't like Julie hanging with Slytherins. You never know, she might just turn into- well, You-Know-Her."

"Aw, Tim, she will not," Hannah chided. "Being a Slytherin does not make you evil by default, you know. Look at her dad!"

They did. Snape's robes suddenly flickered and became bright red. He shot Hermione a glare and they turned back to black.

"I guess she's won a bet or something on the match."

"But still! And she spends too much time studying stuff in the library. I know, Hannah, 'look at her mum.' It's still a little unnerving to see her dancing with Professor Pureblood, you know."

Chloe hurriedly bit down on some fries to keep from spitting the secret out. Aldous handed her the ketchup. It was nice having him around, she realized. Chloe was beginning to wonder how much Julie'd talked to him.

Oh, well.

******************************************* 

The house-elves were asleep by their usual bedtime of ten-thirty; one of the ways Dumbledore had prevented them from working through the night. This workers' rights regulation, however, was becoming more and more of a safety risk, as one Wormtail had easily contaminated yesterday's pumpkin juice. Tonight, he just stole some food and headed for the Hospital Wing. His new mistress would find breakfast ready when she woke up.

******************************************* 

A/N: Is that better? Reviews for the plot bunnies? Hmm?


	24. Day Tripper

A/N: And now, things get worse. Here you go.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Day Tripper

"Alright, Julie, time's up. I'll- oh, you've got them off." Madam Pomfrey shook her head in wry amusement as Julie shielded her good eye from what must have felt like a blinding light and gritted her teeth in abject agony. "Calm down, you aren't going to die from a bit of light. I'll put a patch on your right eye now."

"Yes, ma'am," Julie agreed, still clenching her teeth and with her good eye shut. The right one was swollen awfully and from the lid to her eyebrow was an angry dark violet. As soon as she could see her own reflection in the mirror Julie sighed at it. 

"It'll be alright in a week or so. There's no infection so far and it shouldn't stay purple more than a couple days. Here, you should look much better with the eyepatch on."

Julie looked first at her own reflection and then Madam Pomfrey. Her eyebrow raised above a decidedly sad if still somewhat sarcastic smile.

"Maybe Dad'll get me an owl to ride on my shoulder. That'll go perfectly."

"It could be worse; you might have gotten both eyes hurt."

"Then at least I wouldn't have to look at this! Tom and Tim are going to have a field day with this, you know."

"Would you rather miss another day of your father's class?"

"Oh cripes, Dad! He's going to give me hell and a half when I show up like this."

"Look, Julie, I'm trying to be as nice about this as possible. You're going to be in that eyepatch for a week at least, so you might as well be happy that you aren't completely blind. I don't think your friends will pick on you, and if your father does, just tell your mother or I. And then we'll skin him."

Madam Pomfrey clearly had not been around female Snapes long. Julie would rather be skinned herself than admit that she couldn't handle her father's verbal games in class. 

"Naw, that's okay, Madam Pomfrey. Thanks for fixing my face up, by the way. I'd have a whole mess of scars now the Muggle way."

"You're welcome, Julie. I suggest you hurry, or you'll be late for breakfast."

Breakfast. That reminded her. Madam Pomfrey had stated up, down, and sideways that she had not been the one to leave a loaf of Julie's favorite bread, some cream cheese, and butterbeer on the little table beside her bed. After her she'd suspected Donaghan or Malfoy might, except the only person who knew she even liked pumpernickel bread around here was Chloe, and surely a little first-year didn't know how to sneak down to the kitchens, up to the hospital wing and back to the Girls' Dormitory without being missed. She next suspected that Tom and Tim had carried the favor out with Chloe's advice on her favorite food. Except that Tom and Tim would have left a note of some sort, almost certainly. And Donaghan denied leaving the wing while she had been asleep. So it had to be either Malfoy or one of her parents. And then both Dad and Mum had showed up, also bearing food, so it had to be Malfoy-

Damn it all to hell!

Julie gave the Fat Lady the password (bunny ears,) and answered that yes, her eye was fine and the patch would come off in a week or so. She liked the Fat Lady rather better than the portrait leading to Draco's room. It was unnerving enough sneaking around into teachers' quarters at all ungodly hours of the night without that aptly-named Unmusical goblin blistering his fingers and saying hello to her. The moment she entered the common room, Gryffindor House in it's entirety went silent.

"Julie…" Mack whispered, shocked at the Seeker showing up with an eyepatch on. "Your eye…"

"It's not permanent, I should be right and two-eyed for the game next week."

"'Ello, Julie-girl." Trust Donaghan to be perfectly sweet at this unsacred hour on Monday morning. Julie stopped herself from smacking him and submitted to being kissed fairly well in front of her first-year friend. "I'll see y' at breakfast?"

"Sure, Donaghan."

Chloe was already leveling a stare at her. The instant the boys and most of the other girls were gone, Julie ran her hand back through her hair, knowing she was nailed.

"You, dear, have some very 'eavy-duty explaining to get through with."

How was it that a little blond first-year could make her feel more guilty than her dad?

"Chloe, he got all singy and stuff again. I can't help liking him, you've seen his hair!"

"Excuse me for asking, but doesn't that leave a few problems with the ferret unsolved as yet?"

To the four or so girls still left in the room, Chloe's remark sounded for all the world like a reference to Julie's pet. But Starcatcher knew what she was on about.

"I had a fight with him," she whispered quietly. "And I think that I like Donaghan much better. It's just too dangerous-"

Julie stepped into her room and shut up instantly.

"I thought you'd feel 'zat way when you saw 'zis, Jules."

Malfoy had built a little glass paradise of tubes and wheels and boxes with fluff in them for Anthony. The ferret was grooming himself happily near the top of this surprising gift. 

"How did he get in here?" Julie asked.

"Dratted if I know. I think 'e must be using your window somehow."

"Or it might be an Animagus trick. Damn, but I wish I could do that too!"

"Ask Aldous. He's done it for me twice."

"Really? What's he turn into?"

"I can't tell you 'zat. But he does it very well, he might teach you how."

"Don't you have to register when you become an Animagus, though?"

"'Zat is why I'm not telling you what 'e turns into. 'E isn't registaired."

"But Chloe, I think Mum knows he can transform."

"Your muzzer probably assumes that 'e's registaired. Aldous 'as been transforming since ees 'zhird year."

"You suddenly sound- like, entirely French. Normally your accent is very light."

"I was… speaking French quite a bit last night. It goes up and down, just like your London one."

"With whom?" Julie asked, watching Chloe blush.

"Er… Aldous. We were…uh, talking…"

"In French?"

"In his room last night."

"Chloe Madeleine Delacour-Davies! I am profoundly shocked but even more curious!"

"No-zhing 'appened, I promise you!"

"Something obviously 'appened' or you wouldn't be redder than my Quidditch robes!"

"Alright, I… sort of kissed him. Zhen he kissed me back."

"And 'zhen'?"

"For some reason 'e started to speak fluent French. It was really quite strange, you know, but 'is accent was wonderful. We talked all night."

"Was he able to speak French before you kissed him?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe the Weasleys tried Polytongue Potion on him yesterday. We learned it in Defense Against The Dark Arts last-"

"Oh, yeah, 'zat reminds me. I've got your homework from yesterday."

"But it was Sunday! We don't have classes then!"

"Well, tell 'zat to your father. He gave me 'zis."

Julie opened the folded parchment and read in her father's angular handwriting:

'The potion you made in class should have worked beautifully. I had your Chaser, Howard, I think, test it in detention Saturday. Ask the little first-year to kiss him before it wears off. If he suddenly speaks French, you get ten points to Gryffindor.   
-Dad.  
P.S. You've got a pop quiz today. Consider this your mother's doing for the match she beat me in.'

Julie had a hard time explaining that sudden burst of laughter to her younger friend, but Chloe was perfectly happy to lend her Genevieve the owl for a reply note:

'Dad,  
I didn't even have to ask her. It worked very well. I must remember, however, never to leave French people alone for any length of time unless I want them to start reproducing like mad bunnies. Not that Chloe did, you know, but she's far more forward than I ever was. And Aldous seems to have developed a spine somehow.  
So the bet we had about me getting them together, you did win. Sigh.  
-Julie.  
P.S. I've studied the entire book. Bring it on!'

"So, how do you suppose Malfoy built this thing?" Julie tapped on the glass and Anthony perked his little ears up at her.

"'E probably brought it in piece by piece with Summoning Charms. I think this is getting a bit scary. 'E's a teacher, Julie!"

"I know that. And I also like Donaghan, plus I was mad at Malfoy when I un-broke-up-with him, so how do I find out who I really like?"

"Muzzer would say to… let your 'eart decide."

"My heart's the one that's confused here! That won't help at all!"

"Well, daddy would just say to flip a coin."

"Arrggh!" With a gesture of complete exasperation, Julie turned on her old stereo, which didn't work. "What's wrong with this piece of-" She swore terribly.

"Julie, you have to change the speed if you want to play a forty-five."

"How do you know that? I don't own any forty-fives."

"Zhen what's 'zis?" Chloe asked, pointing to the turntable. "Grandpa Davies plays zhese a lot, actually."

"Hmm. Think Malfoy left it?"

"Unlikely. He's wizard-born."

"And rich. What'd he be doing in a Muggle shop? Plus these go for barely tenpence- a Sickle- now…" Julie turned the speed from thirty-three to forty-five R.P.M.s, and gently placed the needle on the small record. "Besides, how would Malfoy know how to use an adapter- ooh!" Julie grinned and turned the stereo up much louder.

"You know 'zis band?"

"It's the Beatles. Every Muggle does."

Suddenly Julie's one visible eye flickered a little bit, as if there were some red dye moving across her iris. Chloe barely noticed the little change.

"This song gives me an idea, Chloe."

"Look here, 'zhere's a note," Chloe held it up. 

On the small sleeve of the forty-five were some scribbled words:

'My Lady, I hope this is to your liking.'

"Not Draco's writing," Julie observed rather carelessly. "We'd both better get down to breakfast, now."

*********************************** 

Professor Flitwick knocked on Professor Malfoy's door.

"Yes?" he answered, shirt not buttoned and his robes half-on, half-off.

"Draco, I was wondering…my brother's just landed in hospital, could you teach my Charms class for me today?"

"Oh, sure, no problem. What day is it?"

"Er- Monday."

"Okay. I thought that's what it was."

As Draco buttoned his shirt, the little wizard couldn't help noticing bruises all over the blond man's chest- souvenirs of the fight at the Quidditch game.

"My lesson plans and seating charts are on my desk. I'm sure you know how the classroom works."

"Of course, Professor. Just one thing-"

"Yes?"

"What's a good charm to knock off a hangover?"

*********************************** 

Breakfast was the usual calm charade, tired students red-eyed from studying squiffing pumpkin juice and wishing it had caffiene, teachers cheerily passing a plate of sausages. Tom and Tim were their usual chipper selves, grievously offending those who'd stayed up too late preparing for a test today. Mack was going over his Defense Against the Dark Arts text as he swallowed anything he found beneath his fork, and Tom mischievously gave him a Cockroach Cluster. He didn't notice and the whole table howled.

Chloe and Aldous were being kind of cute, today, sitting next to each other and absent-mindedly switching foods they hated but each knew the other liked. Aldous, for example, could not bear hash browns, but Chloe loved them and hated onions, which he liked a lot. Even Kev Wood the Keeper thought that this was somewhat humorous. He'd been up almost as late as Donaghan studying for their Potions quiz, except that Donaghan had only been studying part of the time. Julie was pleased somewhat to not see Professor Malfoy there, as Donaghan was playing with her constantly. If he wasn't running the ends of his fingers up the back of her arm, he was tickling her right ear, both of which made her sit up straight and shiver convulsively. Finally Tim had something to say on that:

"I take it more than Quidditch was discussed in the Hospital Wing?"

"Oh, but of course, Timothy, we fucked like drunken bunnies all through the Quidditch match. Didn't even know who won 'til Uncle Ron showed up. And considering I had my eyes bandaged for most of the time, you might say it was one of those bondage things."

Tom and Tim's jaws were permanently dropped, Mack looked like he might have a heart attack, and Chloe gave Julie a raised eyebrow. Julie smiled.

"I was kidding."

"I hope so!" her father said. 

Everyone but Julie and Donaghan cracked up totally. 

"Sarcasm, my _dear_ Starcatcher, is evidently an art you require some practice in. Detention this evening and five points from Gryffindor for such an _outrageously unconvincing_ lie. Good day."

He left just as quickly as he'd appeared. The others all gave Julie looks of amusement and mild shock.

"Well, it really was unconvincing, Julie-girl." Donaghan kissed her hand as he got up to leave the Hall.

Did he have to be so damn perfect all the time?

Mack was suddenly bowing his head in prayer. The other Gryffindors looked at him curiously, until he had finished, crossed himself, and then replied:

"Just thankin' Saint Bridget my father doesn' teach."

"Really, Julie, you shouldn't say such things," Tim chided.

"Yeah, you had me going for a few seconds. I had this fabulous picture in my mind-" Tom stopped, aware that every eye was now fixed on him reproachingly. "Well, not that fabulous, you know, with old Donnie there."

"Thomas Weasley, if you don't mind keeping your semi-incestuous thoughts in check, we are trying to enjoy the Monday morning meal, _coz."_

"Yikes, she can dish it but she can't take it served, can she?"

"Oh, really?" Julie abruptly turned her attention to her younger friend. "I might still be using the whip tonight, but if you need the chains, they're up in my center drawer."

Sure enough, Tom got up and had to leave the room. Mack and Aldous were Julie's captive audience.

"Keep in mind, though, dear, Irish people tend to bruise easily, although Scots are somewhat softer, like a fresh …fruit." Julie bit into some cantaloupe as she said this.

"You are not nice!" Tim protested, following his cousin out of the Great Hall.

"Just payback for some potion," Julie called after him. "As you were," she told the two other boys.

"Julie, that was really not fair," Aldous pointed out. "That kind of trick's straight out of Slytherin."

"Or France," Julie answered somewhat jokingly. Aldous returned to his quiet mode. "Well, two Weasleys gone, I guess I'll take my leave. See you all in class or practice, you at lunch, Chloe."

And with that, Julie flicked her hair and set off for her Charms class.

***************************************  

"Oh, Saint Bridget preserve us all," Julie whispered under her breath when she got to Charms class. There, sitting hugely in Professor Flitwick's small chair like the dishiest dishy blond since Brad Pitt himself was Professor Malfoy, exactly who she did not want to see. "Merde!"

"Excuse me, miss-" ludicrously he checked the seating chart, "-Starcatcher? A comment you'd prefer to share with the rest of us?"

About eight kids were there so far, Tom and Tim and Aldous included. Damn.

"Oh, yes, Professor," she began artlessly. "The term was 'merde,' a French word descended from the Norman 'merdde' and commonly used today as a minor profanity. I was merely reacting with surprise to a different Professor here when the one we usually have has yet to return a grade I'm somewhat curious to hear about." The perfect lie. Tom and Tim silently applauded her. "However, given that you are going to be our permanent teacher starting Christmastime, I am certain you could tell me what grade I got on our last quiz, eh?"

It was flirty. It was evil. It was stolen out of two Nicole Kidman movies. But it was making Draco squirm and Julie's Gryffindors were loving it. 

"Well, I'm er- certain I could look up that score for you." Malfoy dove into a fat record book to find her name ad test record. "Ah, yes. That would be full marks. Very well."

"My thanks –Professor."

Oh, she was being so awful to him! Julie couldn't believe she was doing this.

Her eyes flickered red.

"Oh, by the way, Professor, how did you come out in the Quidditch match? I wasn't present, but I hear your side strove admirably." Her voice lowered to a timbre very like her dad's. "And _lost."_

Draco swallowed hard. That little Slytherin! 

"I escaped with only minor injuries, thank you for your considerate inquiry. You, yourself, seem a little worse for wear today."

The eyepatch. Julie swallowed.

"Oh, a trivial thing. A plate-glass window and I had an argument."

"And yet you don't seem of a quarrelsome nature. Tell me, how could you have possibly offended it?"

Tom and Tim were biting their nails wondering who would crack first. Julie made an airy gesture as if to say 'la-de-da' to Malfoy.

"Silly, really, I insulted it's location."

"And?"

"It felt it should remain in it's place, while I felt my broomstick should be there instead, but at least I came off somewhat better in the fight."

"Your eye, though, surely that is not a trivial wound, my dear?"

Damn him, not endearment. Julie scratched her ear.

"Ah, what are eyes to one who has seen the world in all ways? What is sight when one knows how to live on their wits alone?"

"Philosophy, ah, yes. A tricky art." Malfoy smiled his best 'melt-girl's-knees-into-water' smile. "What is life when one can only live half a life? What are wits when riches are available?"

"What are riches but the products of wit and time? What is time but erosion to riches and sharpener to wits?"

The Weasleys didn't understand a bit of this. For some reason Julie and Professor Pureblood were verbally tap-dancing to music they didn't know.

"True, Miss Starcatcher, but are not all things but means to an end? Riches are not an end to themselves, but a means to the end of securing wits."

"Wit cannot be bought."

"But can it not be earned by another wit?"

"'It would take a sharp knife, indeed, to convince a sword that it had the right-of-way.'" Julie quoted sharply, but Malfoy still beat her out.

"Lochevsky."

"A Muggle. You have read, I see."

"Reading sharpens wit."

"When wit is all one has, it sharpens rather fast."

"What then, when one is possessed of more than wit?"

"Wit alone will never trust one with more than wit."

"Is it because wit only trusts itself? That is not wit, but fear, and with fear, wit has something to hold as well. Wit with riches to wit with fear. A Lochevskian pattern, if I do say." Julie was losing.

"You say, then, sir."

"But is this a pattern wit accepts?"

"All reluctantly."

"If you would step into my office then, after class?"

Charms was a total blur for both of them. Mechanically Julie took notes with her right hand, while Malfoy recited the day's lesson as if he were magnetized. As every student tried to make their partner's hair change colors, Julie quietly took in the way Malfoy stood up extra-straight and realized he must be bruised awfully. After making the now blue-haired Tom and Tim switch partners with Julie and Aldous, Draco reflected that Julie's black hair steadfastly refused to change hue at all. Finally Tim muttered an expletive while he hit his wand against his knee again, leaving Julie with a white lock above her brow.

"Aw, damn it! Julie, let me fix it!"

"Naw, that's okay!" With the eyepatch, snow-white streak amid coal-black hair, and peculiar smile as her eyes flickered red, Julie looked rakish and somewhat scary to Tim Weasley. "I've actually been after a streak like this. Thanks, Tim."

"Er- don't mention it."

Malfoy frowned. Today's lesson was not at all going well.

"Alright, return your partner's hair to it's original color, and get your things together." Most of them obeyed. Two students, however, a blond-blue Ravenclaw and Julie, refused to change.

"Sir, if you don't mind, this is my team color. Can't I keep it in 'til the next Quiddithc match?"

"If it will last that long, Boot, you may keep the blue. Miss Starcatcher, I trust that you would like this out?" Draco pointed to the lock and surreptitiously caressed her face.

"I think I'll keep it," she replied calmly. "Always fancied one."

"Alright, then, it's your hair. If everyone has got their things together, then class dismissed!"

It was such a relief to say those words for the very first time. Draco watched all of the students disappear in a swirl of black cloaks with the thump of books. It was a second later he realized Julie was still with him.

"You asked me to step into your office, sir?"

"That I did. Right this way." And she followed him. He opened the door, she entered, and he closed it behind him. 

Julie's eyes flashed red again as she kissed Malfoy fervently.

"Can I see you at lunch?" he asked.

"Naw, I meet Chloe then. How did you do-"

"The ferret cage? I just put it in, you know? Keep an eye on it when you go to bed tonight, there's a bit of a surprise I've put into it."

"Okay." She had only a split second of time to read her watch before he kissed her again. "I've got a class in two minutes, I've got to run."

"Alright." Before she could go, Draco stroked the lock. "It really does become you…let's not fight again?"

"Alright."

****************************************** 

At lunch, Julie sat next to Donaghan. Chloe and Aldous went off to the library, but by some accident, Donaghan and Julie didn't quite join them by the usual route.

"What is this place?"

"A broom closet. No spiders." Before Julie knew it, the Chaser was kissing her. "I like what Tim did to your hair. How long will it last?"

"D'know." Julie kissed him back, just as long. Her eyes flickered red again, but he didn't see.

****************************************** 

Wormtail the rat got into Julie's room through an old mousehole. Sure enough, the ferret couldn't get him from inside Malfoy's glass cage now. What an excellent stroke of luck that Malfoy was, and the Scot as well. Driving the Lady to evil with her liking of two guys at once had been what the Dark Lord had said to do after he'd read what was in her mind, but the forty-five had been his own special touch. All it took was a spark of inspiration to bring her Dark side out.

_'She was a day tripper,  
One-way driver, yeah,  
It took me so long to find out,  
But I found out…'_

Wormtail grinned. Things were going beautifully.


	25. Someone Notices The Change

A/N: Thank you all for so many wonderful reviews, so good to know somebody likes Bad Julie as much as her Good counterpart… I believe I'm nearing tbe hundred mark. (happy chirpy noise, gives Thumper a fat carrot.) Good plot bunny, good, good Thump. (Thumper looks at me as if I've just lost my mind. I check and it turns out to be in the wash. Filthy dirty mind.) By the way, a little aside to good friend Slythdor, no, Professor McGonagall's Headmistress _of Hogwarts_ now. Dumbledore is the Minister of Magic since somebody finally gave Fudge a pole up the-

Good heavens, did that little remark come from I? Fuck a duck. Speaking of obscenities coming frolicking into my mind for very good reason, I recommend everybody read 'The Daily Prophet' by Christina Hilt. After you have, kindly email me the way you would personally like to see Rita Skeeter killed. At least two inches of parchment, with quill pen, please. Thank you.

And without further ado, here you go!

Chapter Twenty-Five: Someone Sees The Change

The first time she met him she had been telling Broughton six-year-olds about unicorns…

"They're the most magical of all the magic animals, with a great shining horn in the middle of their foreheads-"  
"Doesn't it make it hard for them to put on hats?" a little kid asked.  
"I don't know if they wear hats, Katie."  
"Why are they _called_ unicorns?"  
"Because…" she had faltered. The redhaired man stepped right in.  
"Unicorn is a very old word for them that means 'one-horned thing.' Did you know that a single hair from a unicorn's tail can make a real magic wand?"  
The children crowded around as he proceeded to show them a wooden stick, polished, with a handle, and very old, as if he'd had it since childhood. He gave Judy a mischievous wink as he told them this, and she assumed he must be some kind of children's-book writer or a lunatic.  
"My name's Ron Weasley," he introduced himself finally. By then the children were playing on the jungle gym with twigs for wands. "Are you a teacher?"  
"You might say that, I guess."  
"Is this a school, then?"  
"No… an orphanage. I grew up here." She remembered cursing herself mentally for admitting all that to him. "I'm Judy Parkington, I… er, teach here."  
"And very well, you knew a lot about unicorns."  
"From the way you talked to them, you sounded like they might exist."  
Ron had smiled.  
"Well, you never know. They really might."

******************************************* 

Detention was rarely a happy thing, but Julie had suffered through almost as many as Tom and Tim. That did not seem like very much of an accomplishment, until one considered that it was technically still really her first year here, whereas they had had four and there were two of them. Drat her biased dad and his distrust of usual teenage nightlife!

'Wait a second,' Julie thought. 'What nightlife?'

It was true, at boarding school there were fewer ways to waste your time than at the orphanage, but for the safety it promised, Julie would trade fifteen years' worth of pinball games and fake IDs. What were the arcades and the few clubs she'd frequented compared to a real dad who gave her detention at least twice a week if he could catch her? She smiled. Nothing.

All these philosophical musings in the dungeon would make her late soon. Sigh.

"On time to the second, eh, Starcatcher?" Malfoy taunted wryly from a corner as she tried to walk past. "Detention for Miss Perfect Gryffindor? I shudder to think of what Daddy might cook up for you to do."

There were Slytherins present, who should have cracked up into riotous gales of laughter at her expense. But for some reason, seeing Julie with a white streak in her hair with a black eyepatch, as well as cinnamon eyes that suddenly went red at them, not even the meanest Slytherin could muster a small giggle. In fact, Alexei Mlgryevic gave her a nervous wave, then walked away as quickly as he could with a stack of books in front of him. For some reason this made Draco very tense, and he raised an eyebrow at the rest of the Slytherins. Sadly for him, Julie was in her father's dungeon classroom by the time he turned back around.

Good lord in heaven, had she really seen that happen? Julie understood the facts of life perfectly, in fact, very technically in in textbook-illustrated Kodachrome, but no force on earth could stop her from blushing when she realized Alexei's –reaction had been to her personally. It wasn't even so much that particular condition of –guys that she was not used to, merely that she had produced the effect. Her! That skinny, knock-kneed little Julie Starcatcher, the kid with the long nose and pointy elbows and the gnarly teeth? Never! The other eleven-year-olds at Denningford and Meadow, especially the male ones, had occasionally referred to her as Julie Starc', as if her small, wiry frame did not even give the impression she was fully clothed. And thirteen had been an absolute hell for her. The coat-hanger body suddenly developed the metabolism of a Dead Sea tortoise and weight began to fill out her legs and –chest. The nickname changed from Julie Starc' to… well, she did not want to think about Broughton now. She had enough to deal with now that she-

Merlin's hangnails! 

There was for some bizarre reason a mirror in her father's classroom, not ornate like the Mirror of Erised had been, but common, ordinary,

And pathologically lying. That was not her!

Julie stared in horror at the wrecked visage she now had. The eyepatch was like a gaping black hole where her right eye should be, and the white streak made her seem about her father's age, but not aged somehow… like a real witch should. She also noticed that the mirror showed her full length and –well, that damn short skirt would have to go. Somehow Britney Spears, the chick from X-Men, Polgara the Sorceress and… who was it? Cripes, her dad- all of these had merged into the new, horrific Julie Snape.

She looked scary.

Cool!

Julie left the mirror lest Dad catch her and make a crack about vanity. Such havoc she could wreak with these weapons, though! No wonder Malfoy and Donaghan were her devoted… boyfriends? Lovers? Housepets? Damn it, with this body and this face she could turn Broughton into her own private zoo within five hours.

Broughton. The hell. The cold, nickname-laden, teasing-hallowed, work-filled hell.

Her eyes flickered red.

************************************** 

"Courage is the Gryffindor hallmark, Ron. They wouldn't have put you in here if you couldn't do this."

Harry was having a hard time giving Ron the pep talk his friend had asked for. After all, Ron had helped Harry get up the nerve to propose some years ago, and it was only fair that as best friends he should reciprocate. Harry also approved of Ron's girlfriend; Ginny liked her, too. It would be nice to have someone who understood Muggle things at parties, as after all, Harry had spent his first eleven years with them. The punchlines of jokes, sometimes, were tricky in translating. Judy Parkington also seemed glad to know she wasn't the only one who'd grown up in the Muggle world, and had bonded fairly quickly with Ron's best friend. 

"I'm crazy to be even attempting this! I've only known her –darn it, I don't know…"

"Ron! Can you remember what your life was like without the girl?" a sharp voice inquired from the dark doorway.

"Well, of course-"

"Was it as good as it is with her?"

"Well…no."

"Do you think you could possibly live without her, then?"

"No."

"Then you love her. It's as simple as that, Weasley." Severus stepped into the light and gave Ron a rare smile. "Good luck, Ron."

"Wait! …how does one do this?"

"Jeez! You _ask,"_ Harry said as if it were obvious.

"No, there's some more to it than that," Ginny pointed out, fixing the collar of Ron's robes for him. "Be nice to her, just like you always are. Only do something so wonderful she realizes she loves you."

"And _then,_ you ask."

"Not quite," Hermione added, combing Ron' hair back. The four Gryffindors had been helping Ron get ready when Severus joined them unexpectedly to help as well. "Talk to her. There's nothing more we women love to do than talk."

"Are you actually admitting that?" Ginny asked in mock horror. "They aren't supposed to know."

"I can think of something." Severus pointed out, getting a nudge in the ribs with his wife's still-sharp elbow. "Precisely, dear. You have to make her laugh."

"So I have to talk to her and not sound like a total prat, make her laugh without falling in the lake, and on top of it all present her with the head of a basilisk?"

"And then you ask." Harry confirmed.

"Arrgh!" Ron threw up his hands.

"If you really feel a basilisk would impress her, I'm sure there's still the skull of that one you and Harry killed." Sometimes Ginny said things that weren't really meant seriously. "Personally, I'd like you to show me a hippogriff. A nice silver one like Buckbeak was, something beautiful that I'd always dreamed about."

"I'd like to see-"

"A giant library?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Actually, we did find several during our honeymoon. The Americans have a good one with some nice leather chairs." 

Every Weasley in the room gave Severus a look.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"I'm assuming you'd like a giant pharmacy?"

"No, actually, she took me to her parents' house and made them be nice to me. That was after, though."

"Well, Mum and Dad are out of town seeing Bill again."

"Does she like pyramids? I"ve got a stellar broom."

"Naw, the desert doesn't seem quite…Judy-ish enough. I know she loves kids, maybe if we watched some of the first-years learn to fly-"

"A perfect idea. What next?"

"Don't I ask her then?"

"Uh-uh." His four friends shook their heads at him.

"Well, how 'bout I show her the hippogriffs like Ginny said? And the lake at night, we can sit on that old gray rock."

"Good. I'm sure you'll think of something else, I've got detention, though."

"Thanks, Severus," Ron thanked his friend's husband. He was odd, but in a crisis Snape could really turn around on you.

"How about a broomstick ride?" Harry asked.

"Don't do dinner first!" Hermione warned. "It could get ugly."

"Could you guys write this down for me?" Ron was desperate. 

************************************** 

"Julie, hello. You're here early, good." Her dad bustled in about ten minutes after she discovered the 'new Julie,' and the time on her watch said eight-twenty-one. They were both rather late, but she was no fool. "I've…got some vials for you to rinse out for me."

Vials? This was not the severe Professor Julie knew. And 'Julie'? Shouldn't it be the impersonal 'Starcatcher' or still hated 'Ms Starcatcher'? Damn it if she didn't hate that name just a little, still.

"Alright, Professor."

"They're by the sink, over there. Put on the gloves, first, some of the seventh-years' concoctions were quite acidic. Don't get burned, dear."

Alright, he was acting in dad-mode when he should be in professor-mode. Was he going to switch soon just to try her?

"Uh, Julie, while you clean those out, I've…er, well, there's something that you have to know about."

The Death Eaters? Voldemort? Her mum as a kid? Cripes, this might turn out to be really neat. Julie perked up her ears.

"Yes, I'm listening."

"Well, now that you're…almost sixteen…it's a good idea for you to know about, er- some of the er- differences between boy people and girl people."

She couldn't control herself and cracked up entirely. God, what Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would pay to be in her shoes! Professor Snape trying to give a kid 'The Talk.' Crimeny. After the hysterical laughter had subsided enough for her to get her breath, Julie looked at her dad, who looked somewhat relieved.

"You know, then?"

"Quite well, Dad."

"Oh. That's… quite a relief." Snape smiled uneasily and realized Julie was nearly sixteen now. "Just…_how_ well?"

"Pet mice since I was ten, rabbits in Biology, the girls in the washroom gossiping, two of my room-mates getting knocked up twice-"

"Good heavens! What kind of place was that?"

Julie raised her eyebrow.

"Muggle. It happens a lot, I'm told."

"But, er- never to…"

"No. Not a chance. Not the _slightest_ chance."

"You…weren't into that?"

"No, it wasn't into me. You could say I was about as popular as a lead lightbulb. And most of the guys were either total jerks, complete idiots, or entirely boring."

"And the girls…?" Pardon political correctness, but he had to know.

"Were girls. Some just chattered, some read like me. I had about five friends but they didn't know me too well. Mostly I wound up helping everyone with their homework. Oh, you meant…no, I decidedly did _not_ ever go that way. Though some did, they got quite noisy at night sometimes."

Agin Severus was totally shocked by the conditions she'd grown up under.

"Were there ever…attacks? Between dorms, I mean?"

"Guys getting in and raping girls? Sometimes, yeah. That's partially why I carry a knife still, Dad."

"But, Julie, you're so calm about all of this!"

"You were calm when you told us about the Cruciatus Curse."

"I've had that done to me- Julie, you didn't-?"

"No. There's an asshole with one less finger and half of his eyebrow gone. That's how come they booted me from Abercroft."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve. You grew up fast there."

"But Julie…twelve…that's inhuman. How do you walk around sane after all of that?" Her dad hugged her and Julie found herself biting back tears again. She hated crying, very much.

"See, that's the problem, Dad, Voldemort couldn't, see?"

*************************************** 

Severus leaned up against the hard stone hallway wall. The door was half open and he could hear voices within Hermione's classroom. She was explaining the differences produced when one accidentally overheated dragon's blood, and in her easy, somewhat technical manner comforted little Kenny Longbottom about his fifth accident that week in her class. As soon as he left he'd have to tell her. Merlin's nails, what his daughter had told him made him want to –he didn't know what he wanted to do just then. The vengeful part of his nature was suggesting Fireblood Potion on the building and the Cruciatus on the people in charge of that hellhole -those hellholes, but another part wanted to adopt every friend Julie'd made in there.

Did many Muggles survive it?

He decided he didn't want to know. Gods, this was what had the Dark Lord so evil, and it had happened to his very own flesh and blood. His only daughter. The heir who was so like him –could go evil, too. 

"So don't worry about the potion, Kenny, I'll go over it with you Saturday, if you'd like."

"Thank you, Professor Granger. Hi, Professor Snape!"

"Hello, Longbottom."

"See you at dinner, then!" The considerably happier first-year went off toward Gryffindor Tower to do his homework. Hermione's cheery smile dropped when she saw the look on Severus' face.

"Severus, what-?"

"It's bad. We should close the door."

**************************************** 

Judy was almost used to wizards and magic, now. Ron had given her her very first broomstick ride, taken her to see some unicorns in the safer part of the Forbidden Forest, shown her water sprites, mischievous pixies, and Hagrid's hippogriffs, one of whom had let her pet it. It was great. Ron was different from any guy she'd ever known, and not just in the magic sense, really different, like everything she liked mattered to him somehow. And he was so romantic, showing her a real unicorn. He had proven to her that they really did exist. As they walked by the lake, it was so…heartwarming. Ron made her feel as if she were the first Muggle he had ever wanted to show this to. He trusted her more than he'd ever trusted anyone. Were she to betray that trust, he and his world could lose everything. 

He had also given her more than she'd ever had before. His sister and best friends had accepted her like family. Did they even realize what that meant to an orphaned girl? Only the Granger-Snapes seemed to understand everything, and the closest thing to her little sister was their daughter. Julie had avoided her a little the past few weeks, and it was clear why her ex-pupil still harbored hostility. 

With the same upbringing, Judy could understand a lot about Julie. Except Julie was fiercer, angrier inside…especially now that she was out of the orphanage forever. She'd seen vindictiveness from children who'd been adopted out. She'd felt it herself after she'd dated Ron awhile. The urge to forget it came first, a drive to shake it off, and say it had done no harm. But it came through, in a hundred little slips a day. A while before you finally admitted it, you had usually made the decision to burn the whole place down. Most people never did. Or at least noone had. In a weird sort of way Ron had adopted her…wait a minute, was this what she thought it was?

A raven landed on a bush near a smooth gray rock. Ron pointed to the rock, but ignored the bird.

"Let's sit down here a moment –and watch the stars."

He was ad-libbing, Judy could tell that much. It was also clear that Ron had something planned. A squirrel chittered and ran over Judy's foot.

"Gah! –oh, a squirrel, are there a lot of them around here?"

"Some," Ron choked out, loosening his collar. "Look, there's a…a deer."

"It's a stag, quite a pretty one."

"Judy?" Ron asked suddenly. "Do you like it here?"

"I think this is the most wonderful place that I've ever been."

"And the magic? I mean, do you mind that I'm a- -a wizard, and -well, you're…not?"

"Ron, do you mind that I'm a teacher and you aren't? It's just the same as if you were a doctor or a welder or a chef, you know? Sometimes I won't understand what's going on. But you'll explain it as best you can and I'll learn more from it. It's the same as when I talk to other teachers with you around. I don't mind it at all."

"Really?" he asked hopefully, smiling in spite of profound nervousness. "So, Judy, d'you…do you maybe think you might…stay here with me?"

"At Hogwarts?" Judy realized what he was asking her.

"Anywhere, I mean, just…with me, y'know?"

A ginger tabby cat was padding around close to the stag. Judy knew that she loved Ron more than anyone she'd ever known.

"I think I'd love to, Ron." He kissed her and for the first time in many minutes seemed not nervous. They parted and Judy reached up to brush a wisp of hair from his face. To her surprise there was a glittering diamond ring on her finger.

"Magic?" she whispered. Ron shook his head.

"No, I just put on you when you were distracted, dear. …Is- -is that a 'yes'?"

"But of course!" She kissed him again. 

The animals began to move away, but Judy wasn't quite that gullible.

"Ron…is that cat _Ginny?"_

"Yes, it's me," she admitted, transforming quickly back.

"And I'm Harry," the stag announced,

"And we're here, too."

"Spying, an unfortunate wizard –thing." Severus tried his best to restrain a smile and look really contrite.

"Oh, really?" Judy asked, not surprised or angered at all by this. 

"I asked them to, I didn't think I'd have the nerve," Ron admitted, blushing up to the tips of his ears.

"Sometimes you need your family to back you up," Judy agreed. "I guess I have one, now." Her heart's complete content was in her eyes just then. Ron nodded and his twin brothers shot off fireworks as the new pair kissed. 

Magic could be helpful, sometimes, Judy decided.

******************************************* 

"Fireworks?" Donaghan asked, looking out of his window.

"Maybe Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had an accident," Julie observed laconically, tracing the pattern on his bedspread. The Scot turned back to the exquisite creature he'd meant to study with, who was now stretched across his bed in her stocking feet. Mismatched green and red Quidditch socks were really the only childish thing he recognized about Julie. The eyepatch was a change, and the white streak, well… It was still her, but he felt his hormones kick a bit. He wondered curiously if wolf mating season was late fall. 

She certainly made him feel like it.

"Come here a tick," she called suddenly, and he moved soundlessly onto the bed with her. "Look at the window from here, it looks really different."

Donaghan lowered his head to directly beside hers and saw his new enemy, the hated moon. It was a thumbnail, now, but still, it was not his friend. The short bursts of firework coming only to what looked like a foot from where it was made it seem like a whole mess of spells was hitting the moon at once.

'If only,' Donaghan thought, feeling Julie's touch. She petted him gently on the left side of his face, then gently turned his head to kiss him properly. 

"If youre going to be quiet anyway, I might as well ensure that you _stay_ that way." Julie kissed him again and he ran his hand down her neck, pausing at the base of her skull to tickle the spot that made her go nuts. Sure enough, the 'tickly spot' made her shiver and turn completely around on him. With such a good opportunity present, Donaghan saw no reason not to tickle her senseless until he was on top of her.

"Do you give up?" he asked.

"A Gryffindor never does."

"How about a Slytherin?"

"A Slytherin just gets you when you pause."

Before he knew it, Donaghan was on his back with his head facing the other way, being tickled worse than he could have really thought her capable. 

"Truce?" he begged, giggling so hard he thought some ribs might break.

"Okay." Julie stopped and kissed him again.

Merlin's left foot, she was on top of him. Kissing him. Donaghan was not used to this kind of play. Unless you counted the dreams –no, dream was more like it, except it came back a lot, haunting him. That, too, started with her kisses on top of him, but later… he didn't really want to consider that possible.

And yet…he did. Would anybody know?

God, he was thinking like such a beast! What kind of a man would sleep with a girl who was just fifteen? And an injured one at that, he was such a dog…

'No,' his thoughts reminded him, 'a wolf, not dog.'

"Something on your mind?" Julie asked gently.

He should tell her, he must tell her-

He didn't.

"Julie, did y' think to lock the door?"

"Hold on." She got off him, off the bed, and went to lock the door. As an extra measure, she changed the charm for emergency entry. "There. Total privacy unless you've got a mousehole here."

"Mousehole?"  
"You know, where a rat might live. I think there might be a rat, sometimes, in my room. I'm probably just really scared of them, though."

"Scared of rats? But they're little an' squeaky-like."

"Donaghan, trust me, they just aren't nice. A ferret or a mouse is alright for me. Or a bunny, or a dog, or some other beast. But no rats! I just can't abide the things."

"You said beast. Would wolves fit in tha' category?"

"Wolves? My teacher once read me a story with lots of wolves. There was a little baby boy that a tiger stole, and the wolves took it away from him and raised him. Kipling."

"My dad used ta' read that book ta' me sometimes."

"I think it's kind of strange I didn't realize you had been Muggle. We may be the only two ex-Muggles in the school."

"Ex?"

"Well, we aren't Muggles now, and we thought that we were in childhood. Or did you?"

"I knew what a wizard was," he replied shortly. "But my parents weren' and I assumed I wouldn' be. An' then-"

Donaghan had something he couldn't say but needed to. For a split second Julie wanted to burst into tears for two-timing him with the Slytherin. But then her eyes flashed red and she felt normal again. 

"Donaghan, what happened?"

"M' parents died. It 'appens! Qui' frequently!"

He was sick of lying to her and keeping the truth to himself, not telling her about the monster he'd become. She was being so nice, trying to get him to not feel guilty about his past, and he was keeping secrets from her. 

"Dar'n'yedjul, k'y na be so- arrgh!"

Julie was surprised entirely by what Donaghan just said. She couldn't understand a speck of it, except the 'arrgh.'

"Was that old Scots?" she asked. Suddenly Donaghan laughed.

"Na', jus' m'brogue gettin' thick when I talk t'fast. Couldn' y' understand what I said?"

"No. I thought that it might be a spell but nothing happened."

Donaghan remembered he loved that sweet smile most of all.

"I could kiss y' right now," he said quietly, brushing her white streak away from her covered eye.

"So why don't you, dear?" she whispered back nervously.

"Would you still let me kiss you if I were-"

"A werewolf? Yeah."

"H-how did y' know?"

Normally Julie would have just raised an eyebrow, cracked her thumbs and said 'I have my sources,' but instead she just smiled and kissed him reassuringly.

In retrospect ten minutes later, she thought that had been a good move on her part.

A half-hour, though, and she had left his side. A shirtless Donaghan looked around at the twisted sheets, stray buttons and bloodstains, before lifting his head in his first wolf's heartbroken howl.

How could he have done this?

**************************************** 

A/N: Well?


	26. Nothing To Explain

A/N: Here you go. No a/n today. 

Chapter Twenty-Six: Nothing To Explain

Julie slunk into her room like a wounded cat. She was hunched over somewhat, with her collar turned up high. The two people who noticed her go back thought that something was very strange, but they didn't ask her or even let on that they were there. Had they done that, it would of shown that they were up as well. Chloe and Aldous kissed again and spoke briefly in French. Then he walked her to the door of the first-years' dorm, where there was one more soft goodnight kiss before they parted.

Julie and Donaghan however, had parted differently.

Door locked. Room cold. Fire lit. Robes off.

In her growing state of shock, Julie could only think in two-word sentences. She reached up her scarred left hand and undid the clasp that closed her robes.

She was wearing little and had been hunching to hide a pile of clothes beneath. Blood had streamed very recently from her neck, but had long since ceased to drip much farther or release more from the puncture wounds.

He was a werewolf. But still human, and with sharper teeth as the first tranformation was bound to bring. 

On Julie's night table among a too-big stack of books were the titles _'Collected Lycanthropic Studies,' 'Favorite Werewolf Myths,'_ and _'Le Loup-Garou que voux Non Bête.'_ The last, which she had altered the cover of slightly for carrying in the halls, was actually _'The Werewolf: Not A Beast'_ by R.J. Lupin. It had been a favorite of hers long before Donaghan was bitten, as the author was a friend of her family. The very day Chloe had turned in her homework assignment, Julie had changed the cover to appear French-translated, in case Donaghan saw it when they met in the halls.

Homework assignment. That was really an ironic term in Chloe's case. She had once jokingly asked Julie for 'Slytherin lessons.' What ensued was a cross between Tyler Durden's Fight Club and Professor Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. 

All jokingly, of course, she learned eavesdropping.

All jokingly, she had been doing her 'homework' after the Halloween Ball in the hospital wing.

And all jokingly, Julie had found out a secret early. So she had done her own homework for Donaghan.

A bite from a werewolf when they were untransformed had no more effects than one from a human would. However, the weeks before a new werewolf's first transformation had very bad side effects. His teeth had sharpened. And he had not noticed they were razorlike until too late.

All kissing and caressing stopped when he saw the blood. She had gotten his shirt off and he had most of her clothes off as well. With teeth clenched and imitation calm, Julie had reassured him and kissed the blood off his lips. She left in pain. It wasn't even from the bite, but from her bad eye.

_'The pupil dilation caused by various factors, such as drug effect, lack of light, or hormonal arousal can produce pain to the injured eye.'_ It was from a Muggle medical book she had read back in her Broughton days. When she'd been kissing him she hadn't noticed it. But the bite startled her and woke her from the reverie, sending a dagger of flame from right eye into brain. Aroused, indeed. Julie would have gone to her bathroom and taken a cold shower, except even standing was making her feel dizzy. Mind-bending pain!

The ferret cage...Malfoy...in class today...

She was a witch! She had forgotten.

_"Aproxa ver!"_

The 'numbing' charm stopped the pain. Giddy with relief, a very not-well-clothed Julie went to see her pets. After all, the special cage had reminded her to use the charm. She opened a little door in the top and drew out Anthony. The other ferret groomed himself before his turn. Other ferret?

Malfoy'd mentioned a surprise- a new pet ferret! He (for it was male) had bright chipper eyes, a long sleek body a little thicker than Anthony's, and the most beautiful spotless coat of plain white fur. Julie knew that pure whites were very rare and quite expensive, logical for Malfoy, but still lovely... After a brief stroking to ensure Anthony that she still liked him just as much, Julie picked up the new arrival and examined him. 

"Well, what am I to call you, little genki-des? Your roommate's name means 'priceless,' I got him for free. A little irony is good for ferrets, don't you know?" 

White Ferret responded to this with some nose-twitching, and a whiskery little lick on Julie's nearby cheek.

"Kisses already? Good sweetie, you're just like Draco-"

White Ferret leapt out of her arms and ran away when she said Malfoy's name. For a second she was confused, but then White Ferret sat back and began to groom himself again. He shimmered, and then Draco was where he had been.

"Told you I was an Animagus. Your clothes-!" He averted his eyes.

"A long story. How did you do this, you sneaky thing?" Not dressed well, or not, Julie went and kissed him on his soft lips despite his closed eyes. "This is wonderful."

"And right when you needed me. That awful cut!" He pulled his wand out and made the wound disappear, taking the long dark lines where blood had run away as it faded. "You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you, Jules?"

"Is that an offer?" She raised an eyebrow salaciously, enjoying his surprised reaction as another point for her side. 

"Forgot the whip, dear."

"I've got several of my own, you know."

"Fast. That's good."

"No, seriously, look in here." Julie assumed he'd been referring to her reaction and took two long leather whips from a bedside drawer. Draco's eyes went wider than she'd ever seen. 

"That's warp speed."

"You do mean how I talk back, don't you?" The other meaning of the word 'fast' had just occured to her. "Smutmonkey, I used to use these to play."

"And you don't now?" he interjected, making her go red. 

"I mean on monkey bars. Kind of an idea when I was really too short to reach, see?" She sent the whip in her left around the bedpost just an inch or so from his hand. He jumped and saw that it clung as tightly as a knot until she recalled it. "They're also very useful for pest control. Imagine there's a fly on the 'D' right here."

Julie placed a copy of 'Beginner's Divination' on the ground nearby. She then took a stick of chalk from the drawer and put dust on the whip's end. There was a crack and then a small white line crossed the 'D.'

"That was good. Why don't you write your name on me?" he suggested jokingly.

"One, you're bruised enough, and two, that's evidence." She coiled the whips and put them in the drawer. "Cripes! Turn around! I forgot-"

"No clothes." Draco was grinning as he faced determinedly away from her.

"No, just not many. You can turn around."

Over the clearly Muggle-designed bra she had merely added the infamous patchwork shirt. It was unbuttoned and not really long enough. Draco liked it but was getting a little bit red and warm. "There. Much better."

"I've still got an unobstructed view."

Her eyes went red for a second above a rakish smirk.

"Mal', darling, if there is anything you have never seen before, I would be more than happy to explain what the new ones are."

It was wild, but it was funny, and they both smiled. Draco moved a little closer, about arm's length away. On a whim he reached out and snapped her bra strap.

"That is called a bra, dear, and it is detachable."

"I"m quite aware of what it is, but it's a Muggle one."

"Do the wizard kind do tricks?" she asked mischievously.

"No, but they don't make a noise like that and they lace up in front. How the hell do you get that off at night?"

"There's hooks. Anything else that makes you curious?"

"Well, now that you mention it-"

"Nuh-uh. Stop." Abruptly Julie buttoned the collar of the shirt so that it hung closed more. Her cheekbones had a darkening blush of red. "I can only play for so long at night, you know, it's sleep time and I'm going to zonk off soon."

"It's ten, do you honestly sleep this early?"

"Only when I'm as worn out as now I do." Stifling another yawn, she leaned over and kissed him well. He responded somewhat fiercely, pulling her closer and running his hands down her back. That was all it took. In seconds they were going at about the rate she had been with Donaghan only a while ago. Except there were just a few interesting differences. Malfoy was not one to pull off his shirt, sending buttons around like ricocheting stones. Instead, he moved her scar hand to the top one and she undid them, all absorbed in an extremely consuming kiss. His hands went high and low, causing little tremors and shivers to dance around her near-bare skin. Julie turned a little when one touch became too intense and the soft scratch of Draco's short beard grazed her lip a bit. The subtle reminder of their age difference was exciting, almost incestuously wild, and hot. A sound somewhere between moan and growl escaped Julie.

Draco suddenly ceased the furiously resultant petting and directed his attention to the area between underwires, both hands tense.

"Are you feeling me up? It's not going well."

"I'm looking for those hooks."

"They're in the back, you nit."

"Well, where's the logic in that?" He tried to undo it, pulling Julie closer than ever before. She rose up on tiptoe and caressed his chest with her full length. Draco made a growly sound.

"There, I think."

"You _should_ be in Slytherin."

"It's taking you surprisingly long to get that undone. Haven't you any experience with Muggle bras?"

It was a loaded question. After all, he was much older.

"I've barely gotten used to their ballpoint pens. And I know what you mean and the answer's no. Just witches. There's something I want to know from you, though, what house he was."

"Come again?"

"You only admitted to never having slept with a Muggle guy. You've been here almost three months, that's only time for one. What house was he?"

She was silent.

"Good god, not a Slytherin." It was bait. She reddened.

"No…"

"I knew it! You're entirely innocent."

"Entirely? I beg to differ, sir!" Julie got wild again, but this time Draco caught her wrists. The kissing, however, she didn't stop. Finally he had to graze her lip with his teeth gently.

"You, little dear, are still innocent. This is not something I'm going to make you do."

"Make me? But what if-"

"You don't want it. Right now your body does, but you still aren't ready to. I didn't spend seven years in the Serpents' Den to fuck a girl and risk everything that is."

"Uh…I think I know about the secret anticeptive charm. I'm not worried."

"Not about that. There's other things."

"You're clean, right?"

"Not that kind of thing. Have you seen what happens to some girls who do this too young?"

"More than you could possibly know, Draco. I'm strong enough."

"Not to avoid evil, though. There was a girl in my house who wound up as the chattel of Voldemort after a Death Eater messed with her. The worst part of it was that she did it willingly."

"It wasn't you?"

"No, my friend Crabbe. He isn't living now. You've got enough problems with the plagiarist without throwing this on your neck as well."

"Alright, if you say so. Is this…permanent?"

"You just leaned against me, you know it's not forever!" Malfoy smiled and kissed her forehead softly. "I'd sort of like this to last, you know. Maybe your dad's luck will rub off on me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not sure, Julie. Before we fought it was small, but now it's…different. I'm starting to wonder if I'm falling in love with you."

"That'd be a first," she lied cynically. "Maybe you got Professor Trelawney's luck instead."

"That isn't the only reason I won't sleep with you."

"The other?"

"Your nose. It keeps reminding me…"

"Of ravens?"

"No, slow and painful poisoning if your dad finds out."

She giggled.

"I'd worry a bit more about Mum, though, she can get nasty."

"I don't think she could kill me. She's still far too nice." The reason wasn't quite the only one, but he didn't want her to know. "What do they suspect so far?"

"That you're a Lockhart case."

"Huh?"

"I just think you're cute."

"Do you really, now?"

"Well, not just that, but that's really sort of obvious." She yawned accidentally and he kissed her.

"It's bedtime for you, Julie. Come on up here." Draco lifted her effortlessly in spite of his game bruises and put her neatly into bed like a small child. He tucked her in and lay down beside her on top of the coverlet, snuggling close and kissing her one last time. "I just wanted to make sure you would be warm tonight."

"G'night, darling."

"Goodnight, little Slytherin." He faded and blurred back into White Ferret, who licked Julie's cheek before scampering back to the cage. It was apparently a link to his rooms somehow. 

Julie mumbled the word to make her bedroom lights go out. The fireplace remained as she never slept in the dark after Halloween. She was afraid of it.

************************** 

The morning of November tenth was cold and clear. An early frost left patterns on the windows and crystalline glitter on the icy grounds. From his window, Donaghan breathed in the scent of winter approaching soon. For a single brief moment he was peaceful. And then, with a heavy sigh, he got dressed for class. Breakfast was in just a short while. He was hoping against hope that Julie would still be okay with what had happened. 

He was very surprised when he saw the half-Slytherin. She appeared angrier than anyone he'd ever seen, but it was obvious that it was not with him. Her good eye was actually reddish now, not in the white part, but the iris, like a contact lens. The brief greeting he gave her was barely acknowledged. 

"Abou' las' night," he began, and she cut him off.

"It's fine." She actually pulled her shirt askew and showed him the lack of marks. 

"Is somethin' wrong, Julie?"

"Obviously. Not with you. Pass the salt."

It was clear she did not want to talk today. Her bad mood was suddenly worsened by the arrival of the Weasley twins, who looked as happy as if a new baby was on the way.

"Guess what, guys!"

"Uncle Ron's getting married!"

"I know," Julie snapped. "See you in Transfiguration." She left the Hall.

If she had just applied the Sonorus charm and announced to the entire student body it was that news that put her in such a mood, it could not have been more effectively shown. So Judy Parkington was a little less than completely calm when Julie ran into her.

"Uh, hi."

"Congratulations, Miss Parkington. This is such good news." It was the same exclamation that most other people'd used, and with the same amount of good will, and no sarcasm. It was again as if Judy were the less powerful of the pair, even afraid of her ex-pupil. Julie looked as if she were merely too angry with something unrelated to be quite thorough in expressing real joy to her. "When I get back, you must tell me about everything." 

And she disappeared again, fury dripping from her like rain in the Amazon. About twenty minutes later, when everyone was finishing up breakfast, she returned dressed in the outfit she had arrived there in.

The purple trenchcoat looked somewhat scary in a whole room of wizards' robes, and the worn-out scrap clothes beneath it were more so. Before when she had walked that way between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables directly up to the place where the teachers ate, she had been nervous approaching the Sorting Hat, and dressed in old school robes of her mother's. Today she was dressed as an eccentric Muggle with an eyepatch and pure white streak. The one visible eye was no longer brown but glowing red. Hermione and Severus knew this was not something good.

"Professors, Mother, Father," she greeted, in steel tones her father knew to match his own. "I have something I must attend to and will not be in classes today. If there are any exams, I will take them all upon my return. Here is all of my homework from yesterday." She drew four rolls of parchment from her pocket and put them on the table. "Parents, I believe I'll be home by six. Good day to you all."

And she walked right out. Just as her father rose to protest to this bizarre behavior, she caught the Firebolt she'd Summoned and flew away.

Professor Malfoy swallowed hard and realized that both the Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor were shooting him glares that revealed too much.

"Professor Potter, I must ask you to follow her," Headmistress McGonagall announced. "Professors Malfoy, Granger, and Snape, I want a word with you."

Harry departed in great haste to pursue the Starcatcher, but not before Chloe Davies came up to Professor Granger with a rolled-up note.

"Professor Granger, Julie left this." Hermione took it.

It was not a note but a page from the Daily Prophet. She swore under her breath and handed it to Severus. After Minerva, too, had scanned it and been furious, Malfoy got a turn to see the headline:

'SHE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED IS AT HOGWARTS!'

He uttered a forgivable if truly disgusting expletive. Severus nodded his agreement to Draco's choice of words, as he, too, despised 'that Skeeter cow.'

****************************** 

A/N: Is last chapter's homework explained now, ducks?


	27. That Skeeter Cow

A/N: Sorry to be so quiet in my a/ns recently, but I've been too busy reveling in the messes and messes of reviews I have gotten so far. I printed them all out and cut them apart like little cards, ceremonially burned all the flames (three) in the charcoal grill, and played with the good ones all afternoon. Then my boyfriend arrived and asked what the hell all the little scraps of paper were doing arranged on the carpet like a huge game of solitaire and I told him why: I am silly. Also smut-laden. But I am appreciated, so that is very nice. He read most of them and I wound up showing him the ff.net website, and he was not amused by some of the things I had happen. I keep telling him that art doesn't always imitate life, but he still thought Julie sounded too much like me. Dear protective Slytherin that he is, I fear that now she may have to pick one of them. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll just keep the Day Tripper thing going to mess with him!

Damn it, art does imitate life sometimes.

Here you go.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: That Skeeter Cow

'It appears that Albus Dumbledore's chosen successor at Hogwarts is making as many mistakes as he did. Not only did Minerva McGonagall approve the entry of a fifteen-year-old witch with no previous training, she unwittingly brought the chosen heir of You-Know-Who into the students' midst. The heir is, of course, the already-controversial scion of Professors Severus Snape, former Death Eater and later spy for Dumbledore, and Hermione Granger, Muggle-born student prodigy and victim of kidnapping by the Dark Lord's servants sixteen years ago.   
It has been reliably proven that September's new student, an apparent orphan and Muggle-born, is indeed the bastard child of the Snapes, who chose to officialize their relationship when the child was about three years old. Julia Starcatcher Snape, as the girl is now known, was born in January at about the time of the Dark Lord's demise, and her mother, then eighteen, claims to have absolutely no memory of her daughter's arrival. This has not, of course, been validated, but when one is dealing with committing one's daughter to the same Muggle orphanage that produced Lord Voldemort, excuses are easily accepted. As controversial as the Snapes themselves have proven, it seems onlt logical that they would hide the only real reason for their relationship.  
Out of that fractured childhood spent in the cruelest institution of the Muggle world, comes Julia Starcatcher, the legal name given to the baby the Muggles found as a scarred newborn. The Hogwarts Sorting Hat was undecided for the first time in recorded history between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and it is reported that after her unknowing father and mother interrogated her to decide her House, it was determined by Snape that she would be most safely placed as a Gryffindor. Considering it was that very night Julia's identity was determined by use of a Memory Test, the startled daddy probably regrets recommending that placement. Taught to fly by her father and Quidditch legend Harry Potter himself, young Julie shows promise as the Gryffindors' Seeker, defeating Slytherin House in her very first game played. The shared team and position seems to have caused a close relationship with Professor Potter, who regards her as an honorary niece because of his long friendship with Mrs. Granger-Snape. 'Starcatcher,' Julia's former last and now middle name seems very appropriate for a good Seeker, even when one considers it was bestowed by Muggles as a cruel pun on the scar that will disfigure her left hand horribly forevermore.  
The infamy of her confirmed infant-given curse scar rivals that of her honorary uncle. An asterisk-type star from a curse failure, the palm of young Julia recently burned red and caused her to remain unconscious for a full week in St. Mungo's, much the way Potter's scar reacted to the anger or magic use of You-Know-Who. Even earlier than that, however, on the very day Starcatcher earned the coveted Seeker's Medal for her record-setting defeat of Slytherin, she displayed signs of immunity to curse magic, including the forbidden Cruciatus. We can only speculate whether the scar is really the result of an attempt to reincarnate or ressurrect the Dark Lord, leaving Julia with profound powers and a dark streak in her personality. It has been confided to us the press by one Lyfften Grudgett, 17, the Chaser for Slytherin, that the engaging and popular Gryffindor Seeker openly threatened a first-year after her first match vs. Slytherin. She was, of course, never disciplined, being the child of two professors. Professor Snape has nevertheless given her a record twenty-four detentions in the space of her three months at Hogwarts, no doubt to spend time with the daughter he barely knows.  
Matius Flint, the Seeker for Slytherin, 17, describes Julia as "really beautiful," yet asserts "and you just can't stop looking at her…"no doubt meaning that the forboding Snape features and raven hair combined with the untidy charm of the girl's mother are perceived by the student body as the unnatural and evil look of the prospective successor to You-Know-Who. Last month's catastrophe with the temporary restoration by sorcery of the Dark Lord to earth in Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest has not yet been explained by the Auror assigned to it, logical as he is Starcatcher's other honorary uncle, Mr. Ronald Weasley. The impoverished redhead is probably covering for his wealthy friend's daughter, who was found at the scene in considerable, but easily fakeable distress. Perhaps she learned the sorcery in she and You-Know-Who's mutual childhood home and raised the spirit of the Dark Lord for information regarding an agenda to establishing her own army of followers. It is certain, however, that her ambitious mother and untrustworthy father will protect their long-concealed bastard from the Ministry, should the aging and incompetent Dumbledore decide to do anything after all.  
But with such a situation as we have now, what can we expect but the advent of a new Dark Era?  
Reported by Rita Skeeter, column editor, and Maggie Skeeter, intern reporting staff.'

******************************** 

Rita Skeeter was sipping tea with her niece in her cubicle, comparing photographs for tomorrow's follow-up. Their Slytherin sources had gotten pictures of Starcatcher both before and after the accident with the window and the addition of the white streak.

"Think, Maggie, what kind of a Coloring Charm could we use to make her eye glow red like the Dark Lord's did? That would definitely sell better than the brown like her mother has."

"I think a Chromos Charm to do the red, and then for the glow you could-"

BANG!

Shards from the burst door of the office flew everywhere. The Skeeters stood up and looked over the cubicle divider wall, hoping to see a vengeful Starcatcher wreaking havoc with eye dark red. Maggie caught hold of her camera.

Instead, they were both unpleasantly surprised by Draco Malfoy, an old acquaintance of Rita's and a Hogwarts professor now. It was really something of a letdown.

"_Dear _Mr. Malfoy, you only had to knock to get our attention!" Rita trilled, filling the deserted office with the sound of her sour voice. "Have you met my niece Maggie?"

"I don't care to."

"Oh, but don't be silly! You must be angry about how we made your professor-"

"I'm ready to burst you like I did that door, Rita! What business have you slandering innocents?"

"Innocent? That innocent little niece of yours is more dangerous than-"

"Believe me, her friends are what's making her dangerous! Julie's only a danger to you now _I've_ gotten here!" Draco cast a speedy wind spell, scattering everything paper or parchment abysmally. It would take weeks to fix. "You are _fired,_ Miss Skeeter, and your little clone, too!"

"How can you possibly fire me, _Malfoy?"_

"You said it! I'm primary stockholder after my father's death. I want you out in five minutes or I'll be forced to have you removed!"

Just then, another Draco Malfoy entered behind him.

"Wh-what is this?" Maggie sputtered, shocked by the appearance of Draco's absolute double in a long purple trenchcoat.

"I've just fired you," the first one said. "Now get out!"

The second had a surprised little half-grin growing on his face, and the first looked shocked by what had to be his future self's cleverness. The Skeeters grabbed as much paper and film as they could before Disapparating in the panic of their lives.

Second Draco suddenly burst into gales of laughter, a bit too femininely to be a real Malfoy. First Draco came over and hugged the second one, grinning as he watched his other self shrink eight inches and turn into Julie Snape.

"I can't believe you just did what I was going to!" she exclaimed, kissing Draco fervently in the middle of the wrecked newsroom.

"Gah!" a startled voice cried, shocked to the core of his very being.

Harry had finally caught up with Julie –and just in time!

********************************** 

"I could kill her! I could cook her! I could serve her to the giant squid for a snack with her scrawny niece as a breath mint for afterward! I could buy Hagrid a dragon and feed that filthy woman to it alive!"

"I thought you had more respect for dragons, dear."

"Damn it, Severus, I'm having a tantrum now! Don't interrupt unless you've got a good idea yourself!"

"A cheese grater?" he suggested cheerfully.

"Oooh, I like that! It's slow and dull and…oooh!" Hermione's violent tendencies were getting a little bit out of hand, even for an outraged maternal witch. "The house-elves could be persuaded to work on that."

"Dear, are you feeling alright?" Severus felt her forehead and looked at her manic expression disapprovingly. "You've been like this since you read that article, I mean, angry is angry, but it's not like you." Never mind that it was not like him to look so concerned so quickly either.

"That intolerable Skeeter cow's just gone after my daughter- oh, I feel _sick."_

Sev had barely time to catch her just as she went down. Almost effortlessly he lifted her to take to Madam Pomfrey's office, positively terrified but not letting it rattle him. He was certain the students would be frightened by the spectacle, but there wasn't time to cast a door and walk through the shortcut way. Sure enough, kids went pale and hurried to open doors, too afraid of him to ask what was wrong with her, but concerned for their beloved Potions professor. Halfway past the portrait of Sir Cadogan, the mad knight began to yell insanely.

"Release thy captive, you scurvy cur! You lecherous knave, halt!"

Snape turned and shot the painted figure a glare that could have sent a seventh-year into a crying fit. Cadogan realized his error and began to apologize loudly and profusely, waking the unconscious woman in his arms.

"Wha- where am I?"

"You passed out, dear, we're on the way to the hospital wing. Just try to rest, alright, you'll be okay."

Needless to say, Madam Pomfrey looked as surprised as the students did. She began to check all of the usual vital signs, until about five minutes later she straightened and sent Severus from the room.

He was petrified, never having been sent away except when it was something absolutely terrible. He stood outside the door and tried to eavesdrop for a while, then resorted to pacing and mumbling rather incoherently.

"Something wrong?" a concerned voice asked to the right of him. It was a familiar, slightly graying-haired wizard in robes that looked like his only pair since he was in school, mended and worn to the point of humor. Lupin.

Severus had never especially cared for the man, but his nerves were too snarled up to think of that. He spilled out the whole story as if Remus were his old Slytherin Head of House or Dumbledore, too terrified at the prospect of both his wife and daughter in trouble in the same day.

Lupin had a clever look on his face, but he spoke as if Severus's concerns might really be valid. It was evident he suspected something more positive.

"I wouldn't be too worried about Hermione, and if Harry and Draco went after Julie they should catch her before she does anything irrational. You never know, she might just be taking the news of Ron's engagement to her friends at the orphanage. I wouldn't worry."

"How do you know about all of this?"

"Ron and Harry both summoned me with owls shortly after yours about the Gryffindor who's been bitten. They sent news."

"Bright of them." Severus said this as if common sense was not something he expected from his wife's two friends often. "Have you met McPhersen yet?"

"No, but I've heard good things about his character from your wife. I wager _you_ want him quartered and fed to the hippogriffs." Lupin smiled. "I've also heard a great deal about your daughter and what she's been at."

"I trust the boy, actually, Remus- well, not really, but if they're chaperoned I don't think they could do each other harm. This wolf thing, though, his first thought was what Julie was going to think. If he thinks he's fallen in love with her…" Severus made a wizarding gesture that in Muggle terms amounted to a finger being drawn across the throat. "And don't you berate me with that overprotective tripe, I know what can happen with Gryffindors!"

"Well, you certainly have a pretty good Seeker as evidence."

Snape went red at Lupin's jest, but smiled at the compliment to his daughter. The werewolf put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Severus, it will all be fine."

******************************* 

A/N: How's that, Niamh? And I told you the worst person imaginable would catch them. So let's just hope Julie can ad-lib her way out of it or Donaghan will be chosen by default! (Wizards' duel for him with the Boy Who Lived? Can't kill everybody off, now, that's cheating.)

-J.McN.


	28. All Lies and Jest

A/N: And here are the answers to those cliffhangers. I'm sorry, but something in my sick little mind makes me keep writing them. Sorry. Oh, and Cassondra, I'm going to put in little 'smut, violence, etc. next chapter' warnings from now on, if there are any. Mainly I upped the rating for language, as Julie's starting to let loose the nether region of her vocabulary a bit more, y'know, plus minor nudity (the patch shirt!) and here's a secret: I technically have a similar problem with NC-17s, but I figure if I wrote it, then…That and it only takes a click on the pop-up window to read it, even if you are technically underage. I say technical because chronological age does not always square with intellectual or physical age, you know? If anyone could tell me what they think my intellectual age is, I'd appreciate it, because my chronological one is ridiculous. By the way, the patch shirt and purple trenchcoat are clothes that I actually have. And my boyfriend is blond and taller as well as older than me. (grins.)Here you go.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: All Lies and Jest…

Harry looked as if he might drop dead at any second from the shock of Julie transforming from and then kissing his former enemy. It was even worse than the time he'd found out about Hermione and Severus, because this was his niece and this was Malfoy.

"Uncle Harry!" Julie cried joyfully, acting for all the world as if she were pleased to see him, in spite of what Harry'd just seen her do. Malfoy, however, looked as embarrassed as one would expect him to.

"Did you see what Malfoy did? That was so nice of you to follow me-"

And Julie covered her tail the only way she could think, leaning up and snogging Harry exactly as she had Draco. Tripe and three-quarters if it wasn't weird!

"I was going to fire her as well with the Polyjuice Potion-"

"Tell me, Miss Snape, did you make that potion alone or with some help?" Draco asked, realizing what her excuse would be.

"All alone, why?" She leaned over and gave him a good long one, which he knew to interrupt and act as if it were a side effect of some error in the potion. Julie acted as if she didn't understand what he was getting at or even if she noticed she was kissing people right and left.

"Because I think you might have made an error in brewing it, unless your French friend has been influencing you a little too much."

"Am I not speaking English?" Julie asked.

"That would depend on your definition of speech, Julie. Considering you just snogged Harry and I, it's a damn good thing I got to Skeeter before you did."

The look of embarrased shock on Julie's face convinced Harry that there was no danger of a second-generation tendency, especially as Malfoy was being openly antagonistic to her about it.

"I would take you home to your father right now, in fact, except _that_ would be a very bad thing for you. Too bad your little Weasley bootlickers aren't here, they probably dream of you being in such a state every night. I suggest you also stay far away from the Gryffindor locker room lest those micks and scotchers learn just how well you catch after all."

Julie began to cry quietly and glare at him. Harry hugged her reassuringly, making sure to keep her head well below the level of his shoulder, just in case.

"Malfoy, quit it. It's a mistake, there's no reason to make her cry."

"Alright," Malfoy said grudgingly. "I'm sorry I said those things. But do you have any idea what your parents would think if they heard you'd been kissing me? "

"I think I'd be back in St. Mungo's and you'd be on the run from my father."

"I think that potion has made your sarcasm even worse."

"I think that you should stop being such a prat, Malfoy."

"I think you should learn to respect your elders, you insubordinate chit!"

"I think you should get your patrician ferret arse out of my-"

"I think you are both out of control!" Harry broke it up, physically stepping in between the two. "Get your brooms, we're going back to Hogwarts now. You are in a great deal of trouble for leaving, Julie, and Professor Malfoy's insults don't change that, I'm afraid. You, Malfoy, need to learn how to speak to a lady before you say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Understood?"

"Yeah," they grumbled, like guilty little kids who'd been caught scuffling. The instant Harry and they took off for Hogwarts, however, Malfoy shot Julie a smile that proved he was incredibly impressed with her ability to make up excuses on the spot without looking guilty and act exactly as expected in a lying way. He hadn't seen such convincing fake tears since his mother did the same deception to Voldemort. Julie returned his smile with a humble 'yes, darling, I _know_ I'm a goddess' look. It was so endearing that Draco actually sighed from just seeing her.

Draco Malfoy, lovesick. Skeeter had been right about Julie's bringing a drastic change. He sighed again as poetry began to form in his mind and song lyrics made the tip of his tongue itch. Were there even words for how he felt right now? There had to be.

Harry flew in front, occasionally playing as he maneuvered the Firebolt. His honorary niece joined him, as did Draco eventually, and three Seekers wound up laughing in midair somehow. He was actually just as pleased with Draco as Julie was, the excitement of being able to tell Ginny that Rita Skeeter had been fired made him feel giddy and want to celebrate by flying games. Even if it was Malfoy, his old enemy.

***************************** 

"Severus, you can come back in," Madam Pomfrey said, opening the door in the nick of time before what looked like a giant black bat swept past her with Firebolt speed and Bludger-careless force. 

"Hermione?" he asked, near out of his mind with fear. "Are you alright?"

She was actually perched on the bed, grinning and practically radiating happiness. 

"Of course, dear, it's just I've some interesting news." The look she gave him confirmed the thought that sprang immediately to his mind. There was a second of fond surprise where he could not say a single word, and then he kissed her with all the affection and joy the world could hold in one minute. They remained blissfully and completely happy for a brief while, until they realized exactly who the first to know was going to have to be.

"She's going to be thrilled," Severus was certain. 

"Does she want a brother or a sister, though, is my question." Hermione gave him a look that indicated Julie's opinion was not the only one she wanted on that crucial topic. Sev smiled.

"I want a child with your sense of right and goodness, and perhaps your eyes. Boy or girl, I'm not really sure if I've even a preference."

"That's sweet of you. I know you must fancy a boy who can play Quidditch-"

"Julie can, can't she? A girl's quite nice. No matter which gender the poor dear is, though, he-or-she's bound to spend his formative years under big sister's wing."

"Wing is right, dear. Little Whoever's going to have broomstick and car rides before his-or-her first birthday."

"Car?"

"She's sixteen in January, don't you think she needs to learn to drive the Muggle car?"

"What for? We only use it to visit your parents and for outings in the Muggle world… which Julie is going to like, won't she?"

"Definitely. I'll teach her to drive, though, you taught her to fly."

"Obviously, I don't know how, myself." Severus stroked Hermione's hair and smiled. "What do you suppose we should name Whoever?"

"I don't know!" Hermione replied in surprise, having clearly not thought of this before. "I'd immediately think of Ron or Harry if it's a boy, or maybe even Draco if you _do_ insist, but if it's a girl either Molly or Virginia could be nice."

"How about Albus for a boy?" Severus asked. "And we could name a girl after your mother, perhaps?"

"Still trying to curry favor, you Slytherin? 'Sarah Snape' sounds somewhat exceedingly over-alliterative. But then there's middle names… what about godparents?"

"Dumbledore, I think, might do very well. Hold on a second!" Severus had thought of something rather bad. "Did we think to give Julie any when she showed up?"

"Merlin's beard! We haven't… you think Dumbledore?"

"I think he would be pleased by that tremendously. And Ginny would be an excellent godmother."

"_You_ think so? Has she killed a dragon lately?"

"No, but she's the smartest so far of the whole Weasley clan. She or her mother would be good choices, I'm going by intellect."

"Figures. You are an insufferable _teacher_ sometimes, you know that?" She kissed Severus again and petted his arm. They were sitting up side-by-side on the bed now, oblivious to the day's schedule or rooms outside. "I'm worried about Julie going off to kill Rita Skeeter, though."

"I don't think she'll kill her. That would be too kind."

"What do you think Julie'd do for revenge, then, Sev?"

"Challenge her to a duel. She is immune to curse magic."

"But Skeeter knows that."

"She'd forget if honor was involved against what looked like a fifteen-year-old upstart witch. Even if Julie looks frightening with that eyepatch. Do _you_ know why she put that white streak in her hair?"

"Tim Weasley was practicing the Follicus Rechromus charm and she liked the streak. There's a good number of magical females with white streaks in Muggle literature."

"I remember that. It's because Morgan le Fay had one. It isn't good, though, because if there was _ever_ a dark witch, it was Ms. Le Fay. The students are going to make her life a living hell. As if she needed that on top of everything."

"I'm sure Harry, Neville and you can straighten that mess out. Especially Harry, he went through it in his second year."

"I remember. I was the worst part of all of it, wasn't I?"

"No, I think Millicent Bulstrode was the worst of it. There's a _reason_ nobody punished Julie for threatening her son."

"Aside from the whole broken leg, hands, jaw and teeth affair?"

"I'm going to make that Grudgett's Potion class a living hell. And Matt Flint has some damn nerve, if you ask me, Severus."

"Now, now, you knew he fancied her. And living hell in classes is _my_ job."

"Then it's about time I started constructive plagiarism, dear. Nothing over-the-top, just nastier than my usual."

"The time Neville told his class they couldn't eat the Squiffin bush was nastier than your usual. You're almost as sickeningly nice as that Lockhart was."

"I'm _never_ going to live that down, am I?"

"By the way, 'Gilderoy Snape' is a profound non-option, dear."

**************************** 

Wormtail reached the end of the mousehole into Julie's room, then timidly looked about to make sure the place was uninhabited. Seeing noone there, he transformed back into the fifty-two-year-old sniveler. The stereo was in the corner next to Julie's wardrobe and trunk, both somewhat empty things. He opened the lid of the turntable and took a new LP from it's sleeve for her to find. Having gotten a man in a Muggle pub to explain how a jukebox worked, he had gathered the method of putting a vinyl record on to play, and had also divined that Muggle vinyl scratched easily. Wormtail handled the round black thing carefully, drawing out by it's edges and putting it onto the round part of the turntable. He did not put the needle onto the groove. Instead he closed the lid and put the sleeve with Julie's other ones. 

There were about twenty altogether, and thirteen of the ones she had were by the Moody Blues. The one he added was their latest, an incredibly difficult gift as vinyl records had ceased to be produced. Wormtail had to take Polyjuice Potion to look like a wizard who wasn't eternally connected to Voldemort, buy a Muggle CD, which was a hard thing for someone who didn't know squat about Muggle bands, and then have it transferred bag and baggage to vinyl format at a wizard music store in Diagon Alley. Fortunately, the long red hair he had found in the barbershop had turned him into a very cool-looking fellow with a ponytail, exactly the kind of wizard who'd be interested in odd Muggle rock music. The man in the record store had actually called him by the longhair's name, which he didn't remember now but thought would be useful. It was a pity he didn't have the advanced form of Polyjuice Potion that put you into your subject's favorite suit of clothes, but his own plain if slightly shabby robes had worked alright. They hadn't fit, as the redhead was taller and thinner than he, but judging by the way the man at the record store treated him, he was a little less well possessed than say, the Longbottoms. Not precisely poor, but sometimes a little tight between paychecks. He had saved enough of the hair to use the face again, so things like this were things that he might need to know later.

Wormtail was certain the Dark Lady would like this gift. He wrote a note similar to the one he had left with the forty-five, except this time included the promise to serve her in any way she required aid. Just in case the note was discovered, he did not sign it with a name, but a drawing of a rat footprint. He knew well enough what it should look like.

Suddenly, a noise interrupted him. Someone was coming! He turned back into a rat and scurried under Julie's bed to hide from them.

Donaghan was coming to return the book that Julie'd been using last night during the short time they had actually been studying before hormones and emotions overtook schoolwork. In her hurried and bloody departure, she'd forgotten it in his room. He walked over to place the book on her bed, only to smell something sort of near the ferret cage. He was a little curious for a second about how the small wire one had been replaced by the large multicolored-glass structure that Anthony must look upon as a castle. He opened the side and said hello to Julie's pet. No, the smell wasn't a ferret, their smell was nicer. Donaghan wasn't tempted to eat ferret, and the other smell made him think of the game hens he and his grandfather used to hunt and eat. Except it wasn't the bird smell that game hens carried, it was fetid and mousy… he smelled a rat! Anthony smelled it, too, so Donaghan let him loose, closing Julie's door to prevent the rodent's escape.

Anthony darted under the bed and judging by the squeaks found his prey hiding. Donaghan was on his hands and knees as well, trying to see the fight. At last, the rat managed to escape the ferret's deadly teeth and ran out from under the bed directly where Donaghan was waiting. He caught the squeaking, bloody rodent and gave it a flick on the head the way he used to shoot marbles. Sure enough, that knocked the thing unconscious but did not kill it. He was going to tell Julie about it and then re-release the thing to determine where it had got in so they could get it patched. He also felt a very strong urge to eat the thing. Disgusted by his wolfy craving, Donaghan examined the captured rat. It had several marks where Anthony had gotten his teeth on him, and one of the toes on it's front paw was gone. Donaghan put it in the cage Anthony used to use and gave the white mice a treat from the box nearby.

"Good afternoon, William, 'ello, Mary." He attempted to call Anthony to his shoulder. "Kata de kudasai?" Those were the right words. Anthony scurried into place and licked his ear in a gesture of ferrety fellowship. "Ar, y' glad I got tha' rat out o' Julie's way? Y're a good little mite t'protect 'er so."

Anthony made a little ferret noise of agreement and groomed himself. Donaghan again complimented the clever pet and returned him to the Castle of Ferretage. He checked to make sure the mice were alright as well and picked up the cage with the rat in it. He felt that Madam Pomfrey would be the most likely person to understand its unconsciousness and make sure that all it's wounds were alright, so the hospital wing was where he was headed.

On the way out of the Gryffindor Tower, he met Chloe.

"What ees 'zat?" she asked in horror. "Julie 'ates rats."

"I kna', tha's why I caught th' thing."

"Ees it dead?"

"Naw, it's unconscious, th' buggered squeak. Anthony fought it awhile, tha's what th' blood is from."

"Really? I'll bring 'im a treat, zhe brave Galahad. And you, too, Julie's going to be glad zhat you caught the beast."

"Been 'angin' around with Aldous, then, Chloe?" Donaghan joked. Chloe reddened a bit.

"You might say 'zat. We were talking en francais in zhe library. My accent always gets thicker when I use my muzzer tongue."

"Is English y're second language, then?"

"No, I'm bilingual, French from Mother and English from Daddy, see? If I really try I can keep this accent off."

"I couldn' get rid o'mine, Granddad wouldna' be pleased. Sometimes I'm actually doin' it on purpose, like 'round Londoners. Patriotism an' all that stuff, y'kna."

"I do that around Slytherins, too, you know. Lester Bulstrode made another crack about can-can girls in Charms today."

"I'll 'ave it taken care of or Julie will."

"No! Please don't do anything to mess with him!" Chloe looked very frightened. "Since that article they'll think you're Julie's Death Eater."

"Well, she's my girlfriend. I'll be her anything-she-wants." Donaghan gave Chloe a pat on the shoulder near the neck. "I've got t'get this rat to Madam Pomfrey's now. Tell Aldous I said hi if I don' see 'im first."

As he left, Chloe sighed heavily. If he only knew about Julie's treachery.

****************************** 

A/N: Well, how was 'zat? I think I'm having fun with this. I got a new pet today, a gerbil named Sparky, he is very nice. Thumper, my plot bunny, is technically Xander's pet, so if things get a little confusing, it's because I've got two animals to help me. You know how to use plot bunnies and gerbils? Pet them or let them run around on you to help you think. I did this whole thing with Thumper on my left shoulder, diligently watching thescreen and nibbling a yogurt drop, whilst Sparky climbed all over my t-shirt. God knows how many J.K. Rowling must have. Thank you for all the reviews so far, 'specially, mym2000, SpikeLover, Cassondra, Niamh McNamara (my countryman!) and everybody who seems to not hate my tripe. Thumper wishes to add something:

5dfwn5890u90ndsjkerkjjkebb9h8.

(He just typed that himself. He's a good bunny.)


	29. Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

'Oh, bugger.' There was no stronger word in Julie's vocabulary. 'Bugger, bugger, bugger. Fuck. And damn... a lot!' To say 'shit' would be a complete example of under-kill. And right now, Julie's state of mind was only permitting her to think half-hearted terrible expletives, not because she was angry, but because she had realized something awful beyond awfulness about herself.

The instant she, Uncle Harry and Draco had landed, the only person who knew about the whole Malfoy thing had pulled Julie away for what appeared to be a stern lecture. Come to think of it, Uncle Harry and Draco should not have been surprised by Julie getting yanked off for a lecture upon arrival, and had the yanking been done by the Headmistress, they would not have been.

But when Chloe Davies bodily took a fifth-year by the collar and pulled her away from you, explaining that 'she and Miss Starcatcher had something to talk about,' you were not usually anything less than completely shocked. And given the way Chloe looked angrier than Professor McGonagall the time Snape had made a crack about a scratching post, there was good reason for Julie to be struggling. She _had_ struggled, fought, in fact, as against a capturing enemy or the way she might struggle if her father'd taken her off so. It was only because it was bloody _Chloe_ that neither Malfoy nor Harry did anything. She was easily a head and a half shorter than Julie was and petite for her age; watching her drag Julie was like watching a Jack Russell terrier drag a small collie. And Julie was not playing when she tried to get free of the first-year. Chloe risked a sprained wrist and dislocated shoulder holding Julie by the collar of the worn t-shirt. The first-year was also Julie's only female friend, not counting the girlfriends of her 'Quidditch boys,' and the cruel way she referred to Julie as 'Miss Starcatcher' either implied that the whole thing was either a marvelous joke planned out beforehand by the two of them, as Harry thought, or a half-French and one-eighth veela first-year who was _beyond_ pissed-off, as Malfoy knew. 

The lecture was harder than any Julie'd ever had to take:

"What's the matter with you, dragging me, let me go!"

"Let you go! You keep both of _them_ by the neck, why don't you see how it feels for once?"

"What?"

"You know full well, don't play the dog with me! I knew you came up an even draw with the Sorting Hat, but it clearly didn't see what you could do, did it? I wonder why your father put you into Gryffindor, probably trying to protect his house from cheats like you!"

Julie couldn't have been more stunned if Chloe had slapped her face. Was this girl eleven or older than she'd ever be?

"I'm trying to decide which one it is I like," she muttered, trying to convince herself as well as Chloe what she knew wasn't true.

_"Je' c'est merde_ you are," Chloe cursed. "You're breaking both their hearts on a timer, waiting until one finds out. Except you can't break them clean because you're Julie Snape and everyone knows you're the sarcastic almost-Slytherin. Why don't you go there if this is the way you treat the guys you like? I doubt you even like them, it's just fun to mess with people's lives." She took Julie by the lapels of the still-too-big purple Muggle coat, then let them go. "And all of this! Blame all your oddness on the orphanage. All the weird ethics and tricks and little phobias! Do you _sleep_ without your knife, Julie Starcatcher? When's the last time you trusted someone with more than evasion and sarcasm? You make sure you've got one friend in every year, so you know everything. You practice eavesdropping and lying like we practice Charms. Do you even get that you're the most dishonest, two-faced, worthless little arrogant Slytherin I've ever been disgusted to know?"

"Chloe, why are you-?"

"Donaghan would walk into hell for you. You haven't seen the way he looks whenever someone mentions you. When you were in St. Mungo's he never ate, never rested, just paced around. You broke his heart as sweetly as you could last time, well you can't now. Today he caught a rat for you with his bare hands because he knows you're scared of them. You were busy hurting some reporter with your other guy. You didn't go to him when you were angry, you just shut him out. What happens when he finds out you're playing him to sleep with a Death Eater?"

Julie reached out her hand to smack Chloe, but the blond girl dodged.

"You'd hurt your friends, wouldn't you, like you hurt him. I bet you even manage to hurt your cradle-robbing pureblood git and your parents who still love you even if you are the next Dark Lord. Well, I don't need any evil friends, I'm in Gryffindor. What you do with your cheating is your affair. I don't need to read the papers to know that you shouldn't be." With a last, almost pitying glare to her former friend, Chloe turned to leave Julie, then threw one last poniard. "It's no wonder that you can't let your heart decide. I sincerely wonder if you've got one now."

Hence all the half-hearted expletives. Julie would have doubted Chloe's words if she had stopped without mentioning Voldemort or the way her parents had stuck by her even when it seemed near obvious that she was permanently connected to pure evil. 

Evil. Chloe had said she was evil. Her. Julie had never looked at herself in that light before. It was as harsh as the fluorescent tubes that lit the orphanage corridors. Evil. Did her parents really believe that she could be that way? Because she suspected dimly that she maybe could. There was something wrong with the little voice in her head that told her what was right and wrong. It had been outshouted by another voice that told her she could do what she wanted. How long had she had that little evil voice? When was the first time she had succumbed to it?

And when was the last time she resisted it?

She thought back to the last not-good thing she did, going off to fire Rita Skeeter in her Muggle clothes. The reason she had worn them was because they could fit Draco, and she couldn't make the advanced potion without asking her mother for help. Stealing the ingredients was no problem. She hadn't needed to since Defense Against the Dark Arts now involved the Polyjuice, but, she realized with a sting, she could steal easily. Not the friendly almost joking theft like sleight of hand, but she could honestly go out and rob someone. It also occured to her that if she had not had one of Draco's hairs to merely fire Skeeter, she might have duelled her with magic, or even worse, fought her Muggle-style. Julie knew she did not fight clean at all. Would she have waited in an ambush with that knife of hers? Donaghan and her uncles worried when they found out she carried one...

The eyepatch. She had heard the evil voice the first time after her eye injury. Was that something?

She looked in the mirror and was horrified. The little voice told her how frightening she might be to other people, true, just as it had in her father's room, and for a second she reveled in that kind of pure power.

Her eyes flickered red.

Good God, did she do that? Julie saw her good eye snap back into cinnamon brown. The red had scared her. For a sick moment the voice thought 'imagine how it must look to somebody else.' Red again. Was that little voice Voldemort? No, it also made her try to seduce her two guys. Two! Crimeny, the moment she'd decided to carry on with them both, she'd been listening to the record, was it tampered with? And who had left it?

Donaghan had caught a rat.

Her mother's story of why rats were now banned at the school echoed like a fearsome Wagner overture. Her own servant as the next Dark Lord. She felt nauseous. For a second, she wanted to make sure her bad eye was still brown, and despite Madam Pomfrey's warnings not to do so, she lifted the patch. Her eyelid was still very bruised. Tentatively, fearfully, she opened it and was repulsed by what she saw. Light sent a knife of pain into her head through the hurt eye's lens, but she held it open long enough to make sure the iris was still her mother's shade.

It was. Julie found herself still dizzy from the pain. She replaced the patch and looked in the mirror once again. The self-assured and intimidating witch dressed in Muggle clothes had turned into a Broughton kid who couldn't afford a coat that fit decently, only tired and in pain, like a worse train-wreck. The white streak now made her look as if she had aged prematurely from something awful and gave her an air of being barely alive, and the eyepatch looked like a half-asked effort to hide an eye really lost by some hurt. She winced. And then, against the rule she'd made for herself long ago, Miss Starcatcher burst into childish tears and slunk to lie on her bed.

Before she knew she didn't have an identity back in her orphan days, she had assumed she was, like some others, the last remaining member of some family all taken by fate. One or two kids liked to assert that their last name-family always did this, or never did that, as a matter of clan custom. Until the age of six, Julie had assumed she was the last remaining scion of the Starcatchers, but she never made any assertions about her family, as she knew they would not like her to be a braggart while she lived in this orphanage. Back then she still clung to the idea of being adopted, or the really impossible hope that her relatives might come back and claim her from there. 'She _was_ only six,' as she would say now. 

Then came the awful day when she had been called to the head matron's office to have her scar explained. She had actually thought it really was a birthmark once. That particular matron told the story to her blunt, she had no known family, no given name besides the one chosen at random, and had most likely been abandoned by whichever parents she might have had. And then, after these awful and cold revelations, this inept dared to ask her if she was okay, trembling on a chair from which her feet dangled.

Quietly and with six-year-old dignity, Julie told her that Starcatchers didn't cry. And until she came to Hogwarts, she never had.

Starcatchers didn't. She was not one now. What she was, she didn't know, perhaps an evil Snape?

Whether she would keep that name long once they knew, she had no idea.

*************************************** 

"Chloe did that?" Severus asked in profound surprise. It was the first time he'd used her given name and not 'Miss Davies.' "What did Julie do?"

"She got dragged away."

"But Chloe's- well, smaller," Hermione observed in as much surprise as he. "Did she get dragged willingly?"

"No, she fought like a wild dragon with a collar on. It was really funny," Harry said obtusely. But for the dire expression on Draco's face, everyone might have shrugged it off as a little bit of Gryffindor student theatrics. 

"Chloe and Julie have a complicated relationship," Draco said tensely. "For all the French girl really is younger, today she had the upper hand with a vengeance. If she were a Slytherin, I'd say there was some blackmailing there."

He also had a grim suspicion as to what the first-year had on Julie, but he did not mention that out loud.

"Three to one Julie and Chloe planned that to keep her from getting sent straight to McGonagall's. Didn't Chloe show you the news clipping Julie'd read?"

The Granger-Snapes were inclined to agree with Harry. Draco sighed. Maybe it was just as well. To give them the idea he concurred to that line of reasoning, he made a joke to the effect that a Hogwarts drama club might be a good idea.

He was to regret that joke for a long, long time.

Ron and Judy entered Snape's office just at that second, hearing Herry's last comment and Draco's jesting remark as well. For some awful reason, Draco realized, Weasley had a surprised, clever look just then. It turned out to be just as bad as he thought it was.

"Why not?" the redheaded Auror asked. "It would sure beat Lockhart's dueling club. And I know exactly who might be able to handle that."

"That's right!" Hermione agreed with him, turning to Judy. "Didn't you run the drama club at your and Julie's old orphanage?"

"Yes, I had been thinking about doing that for awhile here…I don't have tenure where I was, and I'd sort of like to work within the wizarding world. Do wizards really have such things like Muggles do?"

"Why shouldn't they?" Harry asked. "It sounds like lots of fun. There was one at Smeltings that cast Dudley as the rear end of a horse for three plays in a row. _Brilliant_ casting, if you ask me."

"And think of the special effects you can do!" Hermione seemed really keen on this idea. "I bet you could have some serious fun with 'Peter Pan' and the Bubble-Float Potion."

"I was thinking more along the lines of classics, like Shakespeare and Shaw, although musical theater does have it's tempting side."

Draco slapped his forehead unobtrusively. Mention Shakespeare and Severus was on your side without a thought. Sure enough, the next person to speak was him:

"I don't suppose you're thinking of age-appropriate casting?"

"What do you mean?" Judy couldn't think how that would apply to a school situation.

"Well, let's say you're doing 'Romeo and Juliet,' you put McPhersen, Howard, and Shannon as the Montagues, wouldn't it be logical to cast a faculty member as the Prince of Verona or Montague himself, you know? I think your Ron would make a fairly good Oberon if you're _desperate_ to do a play with magic in it."

"You're hoping to play Shylock again, aren't you?" Hermione understood her husband's theatrical tendencies.

"Only if you're Portia, dear, there's no other way that it could be believable. Actually, I'd rather fancy being Egeus if Weasley'd be Oberon. It might be fun to play a glorified plot device."

"I think 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' would be heavenly," Judy exclaimed rapturously. "Actually partial-Transfiguring some kid to have a real donkey's head and having Puck dart about the audience Apparating, that could be so realistic."

"And so dangerous!" Malfoy tried to turn this bad idea around before Nearly-Headless Nick wound up playing Hamlet's father's ghost. "What about those Muggle swordfights, that could get somebody killed."

"Wouldn't you like a chance to be Tybalt, though? If ever there was an incident of type-casting…"

"Excuse me, but then Potter'd be Mercutio."

"No, make me Benvolio, the coward. Ron'd be funnier."

Malfoy realized he'd dug himself a bigger hole.

"And I suppose Poppy Pomfrey could be the Nurse?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, that's a really good idea, Draco. Why don't you help me with the magic parts?" Judy gave him a luminous smile as if to say 'you're beaten, don't try to get out of it.' "I don't think you have to teach until Christmastime, it'd be a good way to pass the time and get some teaching practice."

And with that, the heir of the ancient Malfoy family was rooked bag and baggage by a Muggle. Ron snorted under his breath and squeezed his fiancee's hand as Draco reluctantly gave in to this damnable theatre idea. It would be a cold day in hell before he made another joke to look agreeable.

******************************************* 

Severus had not seen his daughter yet since she'd stormed out in Muggle rags to go get Skeeter back. And considering the wonderful news he had, waiting was making him impatient. According to some third-years he almost tripped over in the hall, she had been seen going up to her room earlier. He was going to get in there and make her come with him to her mother's office, if only he could remember the password.

"Look, it's obvious who I am. Why don't you let me in?" The Fat Lady shook her head.

"With all the Polyjuice Potion the kids have been using, I have to have a password." He swore. "No, that isn't it."

Hermione appeared.

"Rabbit's hairs. Come on, Sev."

"Dear, I realize this is Gryffindor, but do you have to have such bloody cute passwords?"

"As opposed to 'snake tongue' and 'basilisk glasses'?"

"Come on, 'basilisk glasses' is a funny one."

"So's ours."

He got it.

"Puns do not become this place," he remarked wryly. The entire common room had developed a sudden case of good posture in his presence, straightening as if electricity had just shocked the fat red chairs. "As you were," he told them, but they still did not calm down.

"They aren't as afraid as the Slytherins," his wife whispered. "If you want to break the ice with a Gryffindor, you have to make them laugh. I've told you once or twice, haven't I?"

"Oh, yes, I had forgotten." He kissed her full on the mouth. "Was that appropriate?"

The students looked petrified, except for one of Julie's Quidditch friends who grinned and told her parents she was in her room.

"Thank you, Mr. Howard," Snape replied, heading up the stairs with his wife, who was giggling a little bit. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

"Only on Aldous!"

"Is that his first name? He's not bad in class."

Hermione knocked on her daughter's door. There was no answer, so Severus knocked, a good bit louder. Still no answer. It was unlocked, so they went in and saw the ferret cage.

"Wow. Did she do this herself?"

"Probably had Hagrid's help. Where is- oh, look."

The trace of a sentimental tone in Severus's voice was unusual, but not when Hermione saw Julie was stretched out asleep in full Muggle regalia. Evidently she had not meant to nap that way, as the worn sneakers were still on her feet, as was her purple coat. In spite of white streak and eyepatch she looked innocent, and the resemblances to both of them showed up nicely. Severus patted her gently on the shoulder to wake her up. It took a few minutes before she stirred, as she slept like a stone.

"Wha-?"she asked, squinting and trying to turn her entire neck around to see who had patted her. "Oh, 'ello." Her squinting left eye was as red-rimmed as if she'd spent days awake or merely minutes crying.

"Did you intend to fall asleep this way?" her father asked.

"I do't thi'k so," Julie yawned. "I just sort of did. What's going on?"

"We have a bit of news we thought you might like to hear."

"Really? Good or bad?"

"Well, we think that it's good."

Julie sat up and shook out her wild black hair like a bizarre dog. It was as bushy as ever and very tangled from sleeping, so she did not protest when her father handed her the brush from her nighttable post-haste.

"Has England qualified for the World Cup then?"

"Uh... no."

"I didn't expect they would have that determined in fall, Julie." Hermione was usually intolerably sensible.

"Besides, I think Ireland's got a better shot, or the Scots perhaps."

"Really? Aldous thinks Latvia's got a better chance than Ireland."

"Latvia? They haven't won the Cup since-" Hermione was giving both of them looks. "I'm getting off the subject."

"I do it, too, Dad."

"See, that's the problem. Why couldn't you inherit something useful, like-"

"Ahem."

"Well, to the point of why we came here, -aren't you telling her?"

"You can if you want to, Sev."

"But how should I? I can't very well just drop it on her-"

"Well, you could lead up to it with a conversation that doesn't involve any Bludgers, dear."

"But she could guess it and not like it, what would you do then?"

"You could also try to make her guess, it could be rather obvious."

Julie smiled. Her mum and dad had again apparently forgotten she was even there. The decision whether to stop them or just watch and wait for them to notice it on their own was tricky, but she finally gave in to temptation and waited with a chipper little smile for them to be done.

"Why don't you just tell her? It's so bloody difficult."

"It's not like it's _bad _news, or at least I don't think that she'll think it is."

Julie shook her head.

"Naw, if you're having this much trouble deciding how to tell me, it's probably good enough news I'm bound to like it. Continue."

For a moment they were quiet, realizing how funny the three of them were, then the entire small family spent several minutes just laughing. Julie loved it when that happened, which was quite often. At last the mirth subsided and her dad asked her the question he'd been planning to:

"Julie, what would you say to a new sibling?"

"Probably 'hello' to start, and who I am and stuff-" The implications of that question finally sank into her. "Are we going to pick one out at the orphanage?"

"We don't have to. There's one already picked out, sort of."

Finally what they were trying to say got through Julie's head. Her reaction was really somewhat predictable.

"Seriously? A real brother-or-sister? This is so great!" She hugged both parents and began to talk at hyperspeed. "When's it due? Can you find out what sort it's going to be?"

"I'm thinking early to mid-summer."

"And I think a darkhaired sort's quite likely, considering we both are."

"I mean a brother or a sister."

"Oh, yeah, there's a test. I'm not sure I want to know quite yet, but we will _probably _find out eventually."

"Most likely. Cripes! He-or-she is going to need a stuffed animal, a shirt or two, shoes, definitely...where would wizards go about finding fabric and needles and stuff? And a stereo, definitely, I can find that, plus some little robes, I guess, he is a wizard-born. How big exactly is a baby, just a rough idea? And books! I'm going to have to teach them how to read!"

"Uh...may I suggest the reading possibly wait until he learns to talk?"

"Talking! I'd better get rid of this ooky accent then. Wait!" Julie froze dead in the middle of a hyper little planning rant. "Babies are really little, aren't they?"

"Generally speaking."

"So I guess it'll be at least a year before he learns to read."

"At least, though with this background nothing's certain."

"And six months to talk. I guess flying lessons are kind of in the distant, then."

"Probably."

"I"m still going to make a couple of shirts for...him-or-her."

"Earlier we were referring to the baby as 'whoever.' I can't really see using the word 'it' about a baby."

"Neither can I. Whoever's probably going to to get to hang around with me a lot. I don't like the cart-type things...what are they?"

"Perambulators?"

"Yeah, they look like shopping carts. I'd rather get ahold of one of the other things, sort of a reverse-knapsack with legholes for Whoever. Fancy Dad wearing my little sibling into class!"

"That, while the prospect of shocking my students is tempting, would not be a very safe idea."

"I think a playpen in the corner of the classroom could be a nice touch. You've already got that one-"

"It's meant for subjects, dear. Hagrid brought it up to keep the rabbits in when I taught the Enlarging Spell for use on live organisms."

"So that explains the giant rabbit wandering throughout the halls."

"One got away last year and Hagrid sort of likes the thing. It would have been Hasenpfeffer long ago but for him."

"And a pet! I think that Whoever should pick their own out, though, later on."

"So you really like the idea of a new baby?" Hermione asked, brushing a few errant hairs away from the right side of Julie's face.

"I've always wanted real blood family, and I love babies. I haven't seen any of the really little kind, but the medium sort were lovely, and the toddler kind is my favorite sort of all. I'm going to have a real little sibling who looks like me and follows me around and wants to play games always when I need to work. There's going to be another little kid I can teach to be sarcastic, or quiet, or studious or anything. I've got no idea what the baby will be like." Julie thought a second, scratching the back of her hand meditatively. "Sure there's a few givens; Whoever's bound to look like some combination of you two, which means a little bit like me at least, and he or she is probably going to be bright at school and love to read, just like we all do now. The only thing I'm even remotely scared of is messing this baby up."

Julie told them about her eyes going red and the anti-conscience she had started to hear, as well as Donaghan's rat and the forty-five; she only left out all the details that involved Malfoy or incriminated Donaghan. At some point during all of this, she started to cry.

"Aw, sweetie," her mother comforted, putting an arm around her reassuringly. "You aren't evil. We'll find out what's making your eyes red. It's okay."

"There's no way someone so caring could be evil," her father said.

And it was odd, but Julie felt completely better having them around.


	30. My Story's Seldom Told

A/N: Well, I've gotten a review asking where I get all of my ideas. Finally. The answer is very simple: I bought them. Yes, you can get a big boxful for about five bucks here in America, cheaper if they're second-hand, and if you really want to be picky you can have custom-made ones done up for a little more. Just kidding.

Well, I was obviously kidding, because that's silly. Everyone knows you put ideas in bags.

And again with the silliness. Seriously, though, I get ideas from wherever I am, from what happens around me, the usual spots. Sometimes I even crib a bit from my own life, which is easier than it looks, you know, just camouflage it enough to make it interesting. Here's some examples: The scar- I have one, except mine's from a dog bite and it sliced a nerve. The fight with Matius Flint- that happened, except I didn't come out quite as bad as she did. Anthony the Ferret- is Thumper the Bunny, altered just a bit. All of the Muggle clothes are real ones, very soft and worn-out. Chloe is a combination of my sister and the little girls I babysit. The situation where Julie's both the youngest and the only girl on the team is what happened to me on a field trip once. It's all real-life situations and props translated to a more fascinating story line. Because let's face it, who wants to read about Jan McNeville getting bit by a rabid dog when you can have Julie Starcatcher being cursed by Lord Voldemort? It's all in the presentation, isn't it?

Anyway, the first part of this next chapter's told in first-person by an… _unusual_ narrator. Ten points to your house if you can figure out 1. who it is before I tell you, 2. where I've been getting these last few chapter titles from. Here you go.

Chapter Thirty: My Story's Seldom Told

How I wound up in the middle of all of this, I don't know. Normally I'm very content just to do what I'm told, not make a fuss, and protect my friends when they need it. It's an easy life. I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm brave, but that might be why I'm up here in Gryffindor. I'm not incredibly smart, but I'm not that stupid, and I know something's up with Julie and that professor guy. Something big. I don't really care for the way he looks at her. Something tells me that people his age and people her age are just not good mates.

Chloe came and talked to me for a while today after Julie left with her folks, and she seems to believe Julie's playing two guys at once, and that's not like her. I think the only reason Chloe told me is because I'm sort of the quiet type. And Chloe likes me, I know that. She speaks to me in French, and it sounds wonderful. Sometimes she kisses me, too, and she smells very nice. 

I'm not sure what my exact feelings on her are yet, but she's definitely nice to have around, you know. It's not every girl who brings you little bits of sugar-coated cereal. I mean, Julie brings me lots of treats, but that cereal is wonderful if not precisely good for me. Junk food is one of the habits I picked up from her. She's also taught me a lot of Japanese since we've moved from Abercroft. 

My paw hurts where that rat scratched me. I hate rats. The tall one with the reddish hair who talks funny, though, he's nice. He brings me scraps of soda bread. I can't quite pronounce his name, as Julie's never told me who he is, but he seems to know mine as well as the spot I like scratched the most. I know for a fact that Julie and he have something going on. She smelled like she'd been around him the night I had a roommate in my new house. He was a nice fellow for an all-white one, even if his accent was terribly muddled and I couldn't understand his ear-twitch 'hello' at all. He must have run away before that professor guy showed up. Julie kissed him, which to her kind must be some kind of mating thing. I mean, not when they do it to smaller ones or to friends like me, but sometimes it's a mating thing. I don't like it. I mean, Julie and I were almost like litter-mates after she got me, and her kind age a great whole lot slower than mine. She's not old enough to want a mate. My kind mate for life, but I'm not sure about hers. And she hangs around with so many bucks these days! Chloe and her mum are the only does I seem to smell. If you ask me, she's acting very strangely since we came to this place.

But nobody really wants my opinion.

-Anthony Starcatcher

****************************** 

Madam Pomfrey was checking Julie's bad eye again. Professor Snape was certain the red flickering had something to do with what had happened at Halloween, but he was also hoping that it could be cured without undue trauma for his daughter's sake. For her own part, Julie was bearing up well considering how much her injured eye was hurting her, chatting about baby stuff with her mother, who sat next to her.

They had just about decided on the décor for the baby's room when the door of the Hospital Wing burst open and a figure bolted over to Julie's side.

"CHICKPEA, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Madam Pomfrey looked a little ticked and the elder Snapes shocked at the twinkly-eyed figure, who turned out to be Dumbledore. Julie, however, was in the outer levels of hysterics, unable to anything but positively shake with laughter. The Minister of Magic straightened as if nothing bizarre had happened in the slightest.

"Well, she got it. Humor helps to drive out evil, wouldn't you say, Severus? Though I wouldn't mind a Chocolate Frog or two to get it out."

"I would have thought you were trying to cure the hiccups instead, Albus, yelling at her so," Madam Pomfrey chided. 

"It wouldn't be funny if I didn't sound hysterical," Dumbledore pointed out. "Right, Julie?"

She tried to nod despite being presently unable to breathe correctly. Not a single person in the room besides she and Dumbledore got the joke. The fact that her parents looked entirely mystified only served to make it funnier. It was a bit like the King suddenly coming in and quoting a book only you had read.

"There's also a little bit of better news, Albus," Snape started. "It seems that I'll have two children to worry me senseless soon."

"Really?" The grandfatherly old wizard's blue eyes twinkled. "That is considerably better news, Severus. When do you expect him to be done baking, Gingersnap?"

Julie realized that it was very likely she might be getting a brother soon, because if anybody _knew,_ it would be Dumbledore. She had heard enough from her uncles and parents about the uncanny way he seemed to know everything to be able to take him at his word.

"Early summer. We don't know yet which it's going to be."

"Well, you don't usually find out until they get Sorted, but considering you're faculty, Minerva might let you use the Hat early." Dumbledore's jokes made them all feel better. "Now regarding this problem with Julie's eyes… look over here a moment-"

Julie did and suddenly felt her right eye had healed.

"That should make it easier to check, you know. Poppy had it almost done, I just closed up the last layer, you know. Alright. Julie, when do your eyes turn red?"

"When I have bad thoughts."

"Like plotting to turn your dad's entire classroom pink? Or worse ones, like cheating on a Potions test?"

"I'm not sure. I only saw them change this morning, sir."

"Well, try it now. Think of something mischievous, then work your way up the scale, and if your eyes go red we can all see it."

"Uh…I'm sorry, but…I think it might be a bit more complicated, sir."

"Julie," Dumbledore said quietly, treating her as he might a younger relative, "you don't have to apologize. We need this from your point of view. What happens in your head whenever your eyes change?"

_'Lie to him,'_ a voice whispered in her head. Her eyes flickered.

"Like that! There's this little voice, it's like an evil conscience, and whenever I hear it it makes my eyes go red."

"I see," Dumbledore said quietly. "Then it is as I thought."

For a second everyone in the room waited for his verdict; was this good or bad?

"The voice you are hearing is the darker side. Most people notice similar urges to do things that aren't scrupulous, but they show no physical indication that they do, you see? Whether they act on the urge depends on their character, so the only thing necessarily wrong with you is the clarity of the instructions yours is giving. Have you ever seen in Muggle cartoons an angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other one?" Julie nodded. "What Lord Voldemort has apparently done to you is make the demon's voice clearer and have it make your eyes light up. Red eyes were a characteristic of his own, and this is probably his idea of convincing you that being bad is fun sometimes. And it can be. There are few things that I would find funnier than turning certain colleagues of mine temporarily into fluffy bunnies; it's only human. But the moment that being bad becomes the only way you like to be, then your eyes would become red permanently and you would be little better off than poor Tom Riddle was." 

"Is there any way that I can get rid of it?"

"I'm not sure. There may be a way to sharpen your sense of good as well and create a more balanced state, and with that I think your eyes might go another shade, but right now it appears you may be stuck with the red flashes."

"Oh. Okay."

"If it makes you feel any better, there's something very useful those red eyes can do for us."

"Really? I'll do it!" Julie was in such a hurry to not be evil that any task seemed like a holiday chance for her.

"A litte eager, there, Julie. Wait until you've heard the terms. You are aware only of the kind of threat Voldemort posed to the magical world of Great Britain and Europe, not the entire world. Right now, the Texan Senator of Magic in the United States of America has requested not only the aid of all forty-nine other Senators and the American magical President, but overseas aid from the European Ministries in the termination of a Dark wizard calling himself Santa Anna de Diablo who apparently entered the country from Mexico. This isn't good, to say the least, as the other Southwestern Senators have moved to file complaint against the Mexican magical government, Los Senatores del Enchanta. Considering the degree to which American Muggles resent those from Mexico, this may well trigger a continental war across the pond from us." Dumbledore gave the awestruck Snapes a look of good nature in spite of everything. "I do not wish to brag, Julie, but many of the other European nations defer to me, both since the Second Muggle World War and the defeat of Lord Voldemort. The American magical President, as well, was an overseas scholar to England in his youth and has asked for my guidance in this matter. Right now, though, the only way I see of potentially defeating Santa Anna de Diablo involves taking two Aurors and an almost-sixteen-year-old to the United States and setting up a front that Diablo will mistake for the next Voldemort. He will then either a: try to sign an alliance, or b: attempt to remove this new threat to his ruling. My question for you, Julie, is simple: just how good were you in that drama club?"

Neither Snape nor Hermione were pleased by this. Madam Pomfrey tried to hide her fear of this terrible situation. Julie was petrified, but willing to go to any lengths to prove that Rita Skeeter'd lied, so she said:

"If Mum and Dad'll let me, Minister Dumbledore."

"You aren't afraid?" Dumbledore's blue eyes gazed into her brown ones piercingly, and Julie knew it had to be a test of some kind.

"I'm terrified, but I'll do it if you need me to."

"If she's going, I am," her father said.

"I'm afraid that that's impossible, Severus. Your reputation as the turncoat who utterly destroyed the evil Voldemort has gone ahead much farther in America. The wizards there are fond of something like the Muggle films, and there have been at least seven made based on your story. For you to accompany your daughter would be like… well, in Muggle terms, like James Bond coming along to help Dr. Hannibal. To wizards it's really untranslatable."

Hermione and Julie were cracking up.

"I'm afraid the only people to accompany your daughter will be Ronald Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and any others she feels she can trust to pose as her Death Eaters. The rest of the entourage will be made up of Americans. For the time being, at least, it must look as if your daughter is honestly the heir of Lord Voldemort. It will take every genetic gift and legacy from her corrupted upbringing, but I wouldn't have asked if I didn't find her more than capable. Will you permit it?"

There was a long silence during which Severus held Hermione's hand tightly.

"Alright, if it is the only way, Albus."


	31. Rehearsals Commence

Chapter Thirty-One: Rehearsals Commence

"You want me to _what?"_ Malfoy asked Dumbledore in deep shock. "I can't even pretend I'm French, let alone an evil American!"

"You can still be English, Draco. All you have to do is look like a Death Eater and be little Julie Snape's bodyguard. You've done harder things."

"But why Julie? She's not even sixteen and you're asking her to do more than her father did?"

"Whether her contribution is more or less than anyone's is purely dependant on your point of view. And she will be sixteen by the time you leave. The Stateside portion of the charade does not require and in fact would be hindered by her presence before it is certain Diablo perceives it and believes her to be as powerful as Voldemort. The stage is being set in America, all you have to do right now is rehearse and get used to the British cast. Ron Weasley has already agreed to go."

"It's not a question of Ron and I working together, we've gotten over most of our old differences long ago. It's Julie."

"Does the idea of playing acolyte to a teenager bother you? Imagine for one second that it's real."

"It's not even that! I just don't think you should send her to do this!"

"Oh, I see." Dumbledore gave him a scrutinizing look with those infathomable blue eyes. "Severus is lucky to have a friend so protective of his daughter. But she has already decided she wants to go. How better can you protect her than going along with this?"

"It isn't that I don't want to go, sir, just that I worry about what all of this will do to her. Think about it, in the space of eight months she will have gone from the orphanage to being a witch to having parents to a Voldemort scare and several injuries to a spy-in-training to the savior of two countries she's never even so much as been to before! It just seems a little unfair, that's all!"

"I've seen people who could handle it," Dumbledore said quietly. "In the space of _four_ months, going from having a father who intended you as his heir withing the Death Eaters, to being fatherless with a mother who turned against the very order that not only enslaved but killed your father, to spying yourself and saving a fellow student whom you had previously disliked if anything. Your work as an Auror was not the only reason I chose you, Draco. More than that, Julie thinks a lot of you and will feel safer with your presence. Her Uncle Ron is not enough. If at any time she goes out of character, Diablo's spies could realize the charade and the entire world could be drawn into a war. Not just wizards, either, but Muggles, too. Can I count on you?"

It was a question he had asked Draco once before. Except then it was in a time of war in his own country and with his own father dead at the hands of the enemy. There were differences. But at the same time, considering the way he was starting to feel about Julie Snape, there weren't that many.

"You can, sir. When does the planning start?"

"Rehearsal? Tonight, if you can manage it. I want you and Ron to get used to viewing Julie as your equal so that you can better pretend to view yourselves as her inferiors. I also want you all to get used to concealing the true nature of your relationship among others, so the three of you will be working in the new Hogwarts drama club. Keep in mind, though, this is a practice stage, so if students figure it out there will be little consequence, but I would like you to treat it as if it were the real thing. Nobody must find out that there is any difference in the way you and Julie treated each other before all these plans were made. If you argued, argue. If you fought, fight. If she flirted and you were stern, then keep being stern. Whatever the students think must be maintained for the next several months. The three of you leave in May for America. By then the Americans should have everything ready for you to just step into. There's a lot to learn before you visit a foreign land, even if they do sort of speak our language. You and Weasley will have little trouble as wizards, but Julie's going to trip over her tongue horribly. All differences between the cultures, Muggle or magical, must be memorized and made familiar with. You'r going to have to look as if you've been in America for several months even though you just landed, do you understand?"

"It's going to be a little like Paris, then?"

"A bit. Except the Americans don't put vinegar on their chips and they call them something else. I'm told their candy is well worth a glance-over, try to find out what a twizzler is."

Some things about Dumbledore never changed.

"About the Death Eater disguise...is it just a run-off of You-Know-Who, Dark Mark and all of that?"

"Imagine Voldemort were a teenage girl. You and Julie are going to have to improvise a new way for the Death Eaters to look."

"Patch shirts and tight pants –errgh!"

"No, not quite. I was thinking maybe some more fashionable robes, though."

"Is Julie pretending to be someone else?"

"No."

"Then her _personal_ taste in clothes is going to be the order of the day?"

"Yes, Draco, you're getting the idea perfectly. It's not going to be entirely castoff chic, though, as a Dark Lord has a much better budget than an orphan does. I'd suggest reading a few books on Muggle theatre and character development."

"Does she have any idea what she's doing, sir?"

"Actually, I've spoken to Judy Parkington a little about her background. Julie's got more theatrical experience than you know. True, it was all in children's and amateur theatre groups, but she can act fairly well for a girl her age."

"Must be Severus's side."

"Well, no, she and her mother were talking and it seems that Gingersnap was just as good back in her school days. This isn't going to be as hard as it sounds, Draco."

"It's not so much hard as intimidating."

"Yes, I know. If it makes you feel any better, you do get to watch Ron Weasley attempt Shakespeare in the process."

"I've never read any," Draco admitted.

******************************************** 

"I am not a teacher. I am not a professor. I am a director!" 

The Weasley boys were shocked at the difference in their usually quiet and friendly soon-to-be-Aunt Judy. Put into a position of authority over actors, it seemed, she had a temperament to rival Professor McGonagall.

There were only about twenty-four people present for the first meeting of the new Hogwarts Drama Club, mostly students, but a few teachers as well including Professors Malfoy, Granger, Potter, and Hagrid, with Ron there almost as a kind of afterthought. The Weasley boys were there with the rest of the Quidditch team minus Julie, as well as Chloe and Hannah Stern. The rest of the girls there were Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and about two of the other boys were from Gryffindor, including, of course, Kenny Longbottom. By some accident or prank, the Slytherin Quidditch team was there as well, Lyff Grudgett giggling softly under his breath at Judy.

"Does anyone know the difference between directors and professors?"

This was the cue. Kenny Longbottom tentatively raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Uh, directors...are meaner?" little Kenny squeaked nervously. Judy gave him a very Professor Snape-ish look before smiling.

"Correct, Kenny. Five points to Gryffindor." She shot Grudgett the smile as well, instantly silencing the big Slytherin Chaser. 

"That is the last time I give out a point tonight. As of right now, I don't care that you're wizards. It doesn't matter what house you're in or whether you can turn a match into a firefly anymore. All of you are to arrive for the next meeting in weekend clothes; shirts, pants, socks, shoes. That's it. Consider it the drama club uniform. I have worked in theatre since the turn of the century and I don't want you tripping in those robes you wear. Remember to wear shoes you can dance in, no dragon boots. You will be singing and dancing and learning lines. Some of you are going to quit because you can't do the work that the stage requires. Right now none of you have a _prayer_ of measuring up to my last group."

There was a ripple of shocked and even offended gasps.

"Muggles can outdo pureblood wizards, _sure._" Grudgett snapped.

"I have gotten work out of those so-called Muggles that professionals would have a hard time matching, _Mr._ Grudgett. Five points from Slytherin. As a matter of fact, I doubt that many of you will able to do as well as my _nine_-year-olds. _They_ actually _knew_ something about acting."

It was more than evident both by Grudgett's expression and Hermione's ill-concealed giggling that Judy was reminding everyone of Professor Snape. "Considering none of you share the unique obstacles my last group did, I will expect you to turn out performances equal to theirs in…about half the time. It seems only fair as you _are_ wizards."

Julie had warned Tom and Tim about her opening speech. Every year since she was seven Miss Parkington hed required less and less time to prepare than 'her last group' had had. The veteran students were meant to find this funny, while the intimidation helped to weed out aspiring actors who would not put in the work. She had also warned them that the orphanage drama club had been fair to moderately incredible, so Judy would be expecting nothing less than first-class effort. Very few wizards there had ever seen a Muggle play before, excepting those who had gone on the annual third-year Muggle Studies field trip, and almost none of them had seen a movie or TV before. Tom and Tim, however, did not have an honorary uncle, aunt, and cousin who had grown up with Muggles for nothing.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Judy couldn't quite tell her new nephews apart yet.

"Which play are we doing this year, ma'am?" Tim asked.

"We will be doing several depending on various factors such as cast available, casting, available budget and time to rehearse, actually. I was planning to start with Shakespeare, perhaps a comedy."

Grudgett raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Will we by any chance do 'Macbeth' this year?" It was the only Shakespearean play most Slytherins had read.

"First of all, Mr. Grudgett, it is a theatrical tradition that one does not pronounce the name of that play aloud within a theatre. In the future, please refer to it as 'the Scottish play.' There is a distinct possibility with this large a cast."

A forest of hands suddenly sprouted.

"Miss Abbott?"

"Why must you never say that name aloud here, ma'am?"

"It's bad luck, as is telling an actor 'good luck' on the night of a performance. It is proper instead to say 'break a leg,' as for many years ators were equated with lawbreakers and therefore assumed to do the opposite of what they were told. There's a long etymology to theatrical traditions, but those two should be sufficient for the time being. Miss Davies?"

"Will we be doing musicals as well this year?"

"Will the sky continue to remain above our heads? Of course! Mr. Weasley?"

Judy had indicated Ron, who had his hand up, too.

"I was just kind of wondering what the thing you had me carry was." He pointed to a large and very obviously heavy box. Judy smiled beatifically and several Hufflepuffs went 'aww' at them.

"That was something I was hoping you and your nephews would kindly unpack for me. Hermione knows how to set it up. Next question?"

While a Slytherin haltingly asked if he really had to dance, Ron and the cousins hastily unpacked a VCR and what looked like a camera except for being squarish and generally like a box. There was also a screen and a whole collection of videotapes, as well as an ancient camcorder dating from the nineteen-eighties at least. Professor Granger connected the box-with-a-lens-in-it to the VCR with two coaxials and Summoned a desk to put them on somewhat behind the group of students' heads.

"This is what the Muggles call a TV projector. It's basically the same idea of most very big-screen TVs, crossed with how Muggle movies in theaters work. The other little box is a VCR. Does anyone know what Muggles use these for?"

A Ravenclaw seventh-year raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"They used to use these to watch their movies in their homes a long time ago. Now they use something called a VDV player."

"DVD, dear, we couldn't afford one at the last place I taught, you know. Can anyone tell me what this other thing is?" she asked, holding up the camcorder. Not even Harry or Hermione raised their hands. "Okay. This is a very, very old Muggle camcorder, the kind that takes actual VHS tapes and not the little tiny compact sort. They don't make them anymore and it weighs about as much as a small basilisk, so I'll probably have a professor handle whatever we choose to film for the first few months. Can someone show the other students how a VCR is used?"

To everyone's surprise, Matius Flint was among the students who raised his hand. Judy called on him and very quietly he came up, chose a tape at random from the box, inserted it, and pressed the 'play' button. Judy flicked on the projector as well.

"Thank you, Mr. Flint, that was correctly done. Would you like to see something my last group did, just to get an idea of how the theatre program here will work?" There was a multitude of nods as the screen ceased to show nothing but wavy gray lines. "Alright. This must be one of our later musicals."

The picture focused suddenly on a worn and dusty red velvet curtain, which opened to reveal a fairly tiny stage. The set was bizarrely constructed, but effective, considering it was clearly meant to depict a Muggle junkyard with dented dustbins, a metal sign reading 'Dennon Street,' numerous flat tyres, and what looked like an entire junked Volkswagen Beetle with the headlights out. 

"A small note, here, that sign at the corner of the stage, one of my actors did steal that and return it when the show was over with a screwdriver. The car is mine, they moved it to the stage and made it look a little messier."

Suddenly, children wearing black t-shirts and worn-out excuses for what had once been denim jeans ran over the stage like a clan of mice, disassembling and removing the entire set. It was evidently a very well-practiced drill, as the instant the stage was completely clean, someone's voice yelled out their time in seconds and announced that they had gotten it down fast enough finally. The orphans cheered. The same voice who had timed them than counted three and blew a whistle, and the set was rapidly changed to a French boulevard of the 1800's, complete with hideously ugly little rubber rats. 

One kid put a rat down a smaller one's back, and the timer (Miss Parkington at twenty-five or so,) had to run over and break up the ensuing scuffle. The one who had played the prank had his nose bloody, and the other kid had to be pulled off by the back of the shirt and restrained by two other kids. The wizards couldn't tell if the small fighter was male or female, but they couldn't have been more than seven, going by their height. Miss Parkington onscreen reprimanded first the one who had 'played with the props' and then the one who was 'wasting rehearsal time.' Then the not-overly-contrite little one was put right back to work with the prankster and they succeeded in assembling most of the left-hand side of what looked like a wall of junk without bickering. 

The screen went fuzzy again a short while afterward.

"That would be our set-striking, when we tear down one and put up another set. We used to have to be able to change scenes even faster, so we practiced it over an over again." Judy put on another tape. "Here's the part of 'Les Miserables' that the set they were building was for."

The screen came up on the same little auditorium filled with people, and just a few minutes after, a voice announced:

"Please take your seats, Act Two will begin in just a few moments. Please take your seats."

Only a minute or two later, the lights were dimmed, and amid thunderous applause, an all-orphans' miniature orchestra began the enter'acte. They were all about the age of the Quidditch players, with only two acoustic guitars, a piano, drums and an electric keyboard to play the music on.

"People from the marching band," Judy Parkington explained. "Our budget was the size of a lentil then."

As it happened, 'Les Miserables' had been running in England for the past several years, and everyone third-year and over who took Muggle Studies had gone to see it once. Tim and Tom were transfixed as they watched the Broughton orphans play Act Two, especially when the child playing Gavroche tripped Javert on purpose and then got away, stealing his hat. The odd thing was the shortage of males in the cast. A female orphan was cleverly portraying Thenardier, and Gavroche seemed to be a girl as well.

"We had a problem when five of our guys were transferred to Abercroft," Judy explained. "The girls who played Gavroche and Thenardier had to learn the parts cold almost overnight. This was my first year as the director, and we probably shouldn't have tried such a giant show, but it couldn't be helped that we lost those boys that way."

"Were children transferred often?" Hermione asked Judy quietly.

"Sometimes more than seven times a year. The saddest thing is when it coincides with when the kid just did something wrong, then they tend to think that they were kicked out, you know? I didn't want to make a big deal in front of the Slytherins, but that's Julie playing Gavroche, you know."

Just then the battle at the barricade grew quieter and Gavroche went out to steal some bullets off of the dead soldiers on the other side. There was a gunshot. Julie/Gavroche started singing rather cheekily. Another shot. Frantically she gathered up the ammunition, (which was really dead 'D' batteries,) singing as loud as she could manage in extreme terror. Nobody watching the tape could make a single sound, so tense was the situation.

BANG!

The little French gamin fell over, dead. Several of the wizard girls burst into tears. Someone in the back, however, stifled a snort. Judy and Hermione spun around in their chairs to see Julie almost cracking up with the memory and Severus petrified.

"Who was that? They just shot him!"

"Not for real, though, Dad."

"That wasn't-?"

"Regrettably. I messed it up."

_"What?"_

"I was supposed to fall the other way. It gave me a stiff neck all night."

"That was _you?"_ Draco asked in a loud whisper.

"When I was nine, yeah. Roddie got sent over to Abercroft."

"You were nine?" her father asked, entirely shocked. "You could be six at that height."

"I _was _a little small back then."

"Small? I could have picked you up and written a note with you!" Draco whispered.

"You could have _tried,"_ Julie whispered back.

"Did they really shoot a gun at you?" Ron asked her.

"Don't be stupid, love, it was just a small thirty-eight," Judy quipped. Severus gave her a look of pure venom. "I'm kidding. We had a cap pistol... a kind of toy."

"Oh."

"Couldn't you have- oh, yeah, no magic there."

"I think I better switch this tape," Judy announced. "It's almost over anyway." There was a little uproar as the wizards wanted to see the end of it. "Okay, then."

After what was admittably a very well done if slightly inexpensively lit ending, there was a curtain call under the house lights, showing off just how small the costume budget really was. Too-small bluejeans had been turned inside out and smeared with dirt to look like they were old breeches, school uniform vests had strips of yellow electrical tape to make them look like French revolutionary students'ones, and Gavroche/Julie was wearing several torn t-shirts and a red scarf around her little waist. When it was her turn to bow, she took off the cap she had stuffed what was even then a very dark ponytail into, and some members of both taped and live audiences were surprised to realize that she was a girl. Then she grinned, more nervously than she had seemed in character when she was being shot at, and the rabbit teeth and long nose were evident. Tom and Tim burst into laughter when they realized it was their Seeker at nine years old. The fifteen-year-old Julie was reddening as if they'd discovered old baby pictures, knowing Grudgett would make her life a living hell for this. 

"That was really incredible, Julie," a voice to her left whispered. It was Flint. "Can you still do it?"

"What?"

"Make people cry when you get killed."

He was rather abruptly swept away by Donaghan, who felt the bizarre need to pick up and swing his girlfriend around.

"Tha' was th' coolest thing I've ever seen y'do! How old were y'?"

"Nine." Julie desperately hoped that Malfoy didn't realize they weren't still just friends. "Pity I didn't stay small, I might fly faster."

"I d'know, y' look rather nice as y'are."

By some miracle, the Weasleys came and distracted things before either Donaghan or Draco caught on to what Julie had to tell them soon.

She was going to that night if she could manage it.

********************************************* 

"Hey, Donaghan," Julie greeted, steeping into the otherwise-empty Common Room. Donaghan was sitting by the fire with a wizard who looked to be about her father's age. The man's robes were patched in many places and had fraying hems, and there were the beginnings of gray in his brownish hair.

"Julie, hi," the Scot responded. "This is Remus Lupin, one o' y're uncle's friends. Mr. Lupin, this is Julie Snape."

"It's nice to meet you, sir." Julie recognized Lupin from the photograph in his book.

"The pleasure is mine, Julie. Donaghan has told me that you are one of the few who know about his lycanthropy. I'm here to help him for fairly obvious reasons."

 "The other kids think we're discussin' m'graduation project."

"I assume you can be trusted to keep confidence in all of this?"

"Of course, sir. I- I read your book earlier, it was very informative."

"Ah, yes, I had figured you'd have gotten ahold of that by now. Tell me, which symptoms gave Donaghan away to you, so he can work on them?"

Briefly Julie explained how she had actually discovered it. Lupin seemed a little amused by the idea of Fleur Delacour's daughter taking Slytherin lessons, and Donaghan assured him that Chloe could be trusted just as much not to tell. 

Evidently the biting episode was a common occurrence when lycanthropy commenced in the teenage years, and after a cursory inspection of her neck, Julie was told that the bite would probably have a positive side effect; limited resistance to lycanthropy.

"Your father and I did some work toward a vaccination awhile ago, but it's not nearly as effective in potion form. When Donaghan bit you, he was still human, so you aren't going to become a wolf yourself, Julie. However, the antigen was still present, so it's likely a good thing that it happened before your upcoming project for Minister Dumbledore."

Donaghan looked confused when this was mentioned, but assumed she would tell him eventually. He sighed at that point and looked to Lupin as if to gather his courage. Remus returned his distinctly saddened gaze, as if asking him if what he was about to do was what he felt was right.

"Julie, coul' I 'ave a word with you?"

"Sure." 

"I'll be back in a few minutes." Lupin disappeared into the fireplace.

 "Is something wrong?" Julie asked.

"I don' think it's going t' be safe for us t' see each other any more."

********************************* 

A/N: Well, an iota of the new plot twist has been revealed…does anybody have any ideas of where an expatriated British Dark Lady would set up shop in America? I'm thinking either New Orleans, Lousiana, or Tarrytown, New York, so far. (Tarrytown=Sleepy Hollow=Headless Horseman, etc.) The next chapter will have a new character, a bit of a make-up for all the cracks about Americans, but also a justification in a sort-of-way. Sorry it's taking me so bleeding long to upload, but I've just gotten out of hospital for tests again and I can't take my mum's laptop to type unless there's a plug around. Bites, I tell you, having story building up between your ears. Sooner or later my head may explode.

Thank you all for reviewing me so often! It's nice to know I'm not just talking to myself all the time.

-J. McN.


	32. Fakin It

A/N: Alright, next chapter. Sorry it took so long. Here you go.  
  
Chapter Thirty-Two: Fakin' It  
  
Wormtail sighed and looked around at the cage he was locked in. Matters could be worse. He might be back in the hospital wing with that damned Scot and Poppy Pomfrey suggesting he be taken to Filch for 'a quick disposal.' He might be bleeding and just coming out of unconsciousness again, instead of safe in an admittably nice and rather spacious cage with a lovely dry corncob to nibble on. It was also a bit warmer than Julie's room had been, with a pot of something that smelled like tea brewing on the antique stove. There were lots of good smells in the little house, smells like currants, ale, butterbeer, toast and Hagrid's delicious rock cakes, a treat Wormtail used to get from the younger Weasley boy. Being a rat, he could gnaw them for hours, his favorite way to go at food, and it looked like maybe his new owner would give him one.  
  
Hagrid loved animals, even suspicious ones. He had come up to Madam Pomfrey's with a hurt thumb where a Squiffpicket had bitten him and protested to letting Filch kill the rat.  
  
"'E's just a little rat, he 'asn't 'urt nobody! Look at 'im, the sweet little squidgy mite!"  
  
Madam Pomfrey, kind-hearted if incredibly busy soul that she was, had merely healed Wormtail's cuts from the fight with Julie's pet ferret and handed him to he gamekeeper for a new pet. Nobody had recognized him so far, which was a lucky thing. His master wouldn't be pleased, but then, his master wouldn't be waking up for another solid year at least, assuming he got out in time to draw the pentacle.  
  
Wormtail figured a vacation would do him good. After the fight with that fleabitten pet of hers, he was in no mood to continue for at least a week. Julie would probably have found that record by now and decided that a servant might be a useful thing to have, so he could probably afford to hang around and get some of those rock cakes he liked. They were so tasty. And Hagrid had always treated him well when he was the pet of the Weasley boy. As long as he didn't notice which rat he was, Wormtail could enjoy dry corn and Hagrid's baked goods to his heart's content.  
  
The rat sighed and curled himself into a ball to fall asleep. The cage opened and a pair of huge fingers stroked his little back gently.  
  
'G'night, little Squidge," Hagrid whispered to him.  
  
That was his new name as Hagrid's pet; 'Squidgy.' Wormtail was at that second profoundly glad that rats were incapable of vomiting. Oh, well. At least it was better than 'Scabbers.'  
  
**************************************  
  
Julie went up to her room and changed out of her school clothes. She was going to wear the patch shirt and her old fraying bluejeans, but there was a new pair in her wardrobe that actually still had a crease in them. She looked at this unusual surprise and then sniffed it; the jeans smelled of starch. They must be brand-new. Sure enough, there were tags and a note in the pocket from her mum. Julie immediately tried them on, only to discover that wizards' jeans were the most comfy things short of flannel pajamas she'd ever owned. Instead of being stiff and just a little rough, the inside seams were soft, and the entire pair seemed to stretch like lycra or spandex. Julie checked her appearance: phenomenal. Her old jeans were almost worn through at the knees, but the new pair was perfect dark indigo. To her surprise, there was also a small stack of button shirts, iridescent satin that seemed to be two colors at once. How neat!  
  
It was with a bit of chagrin that Julie realized she wasn't sure how to take tags off new clothes, only having owned perhaps three non-second-hand garments in her entire life. At Broughton and most of the other orphanages, all of a given month's birthdays were celebrated on the fifteenth at supper, with one present for each kid from what amounted to the Royal Society for Being Nice to Kids And Stuff. Every year the presents were usually clothes, and every kid of a certain age got the same thing. At seven, she and her friend Rosaline had both gotten sneakers with rainbow laces, at nine it was a shirt, and at fourteen she had gotten one of the two pairs of old jeans she owned. Many of the presents were from factory outlets and therefore had one or two eccentricities, like the sneakers with one of the lace holes not punched through and the shirts with buttons that didn't match. The jeans, however, had been found at a going-out-of-business sale and were generally flawless, an orphanage rarity. All the kids her age that year got a new pair of them.  
  
Thinking of birthdays made Julie recall something. Wizards celebrated birthdays rather frequently with presents to and from friends, quite a lovely thing. For Tom and Tim's birthdays the past September, she had gotten them each books at Flourish and Blotts, and for Aldous's she was thinking about a stuffed Gryffindor lion that roared whenever someone said 'Slytherin.' It was all well and good to convert Muggle money at Gringotts and get presents for her friends, but how was she to explain that she didn't know her own?  
  
She knew that she had been left at the orphanage on the sixteenth a little after midnight, but noone was sure how long it had been since she was actually born, though it was between a week and two days. She knew Cory's birthday because his mother had died giving birth to him, and her friend Beatrice knew hers because her mother had fled the Broughton hospital after being under an assumed name. Julie knew that her mother's original birthday was in November and technical one was in February because of the Time- Turner, and her father's was in August, which had surprised her some. She had figured her dad to be born in the dreariest, darkest part of midwinter, but he had laughed that idea off as very 'Sybil-ish,' whatever that meant.  
  
It was with another sting that she realized she would probably not have this problem with Donaghan. Things were definitely over with him from now on, even if he had claimed he wanted to keep on being friends. In the process of sending her away due to his lycanthropy, a fight had sort of started between the two of them, and both had said some things they didn't really mean. She had called him an overzealous boy scout, he had called her a devious little tart, she had made a crack about wolves, he had made a crack about snakes; it had been ugly. What made it worse was that she had really been enjoying a good fight with him when he suddenly grew quiet and tried to apologize for a decidedly innappropriate remark that questioned her propriety. They had never fought before and he was obviously somewhat inept at it. She had, of course, tried to storm out on him, but he had stopped her and basically hugged her into a more or less amiable breaking- up. She still talked to him at lunch and at Quidditch practice, which was suddenly a lot less important than the drama club.  
  
Miss Parkington, being the sweet (if slightly lacking in foresight) person she was, had turned the entire box of old drama tapes over to Julie's parents and Dumbledore. What this meant was that while Julie and her mum could have lovely conversations about character aspects in plays she had done years ago, her father could spend happy hours whistling specific little songs in Defense Against the Dark Arts class just to make her squirm. It was enough to make a girl wish she had never even heard of Rogers and Hammerstein. Fortunately, Draco and Uncle Ron hadn't seen all of them, because there was no way in hell they could pretend to be Death Eaters after they saw her as Grandmother Armfeldt in 'A Little Night Music.' Julie had never really gotten a leading role, excepting the time Ophelia Madoc got the measles and she had to take over as Beatrice in 'Much Ado About Nothing.' In fact, she most frequently wound up taking men's parts when there weren't enough guys to go around, despite being very short until she was about eleven or so.  
  
However, despite never being given a lead, her only true disaster onstage was when she had gotten stuck playing Captain Hook, a theatrical travesty she attributed to a harmless prank she had played on Miss Parkigton giving her teacher a profound lust for revenge. For some reason library paste had the gall to taste nice in addition to being their only theatrical adhesive, and poor Julie nearly stuck her mouth together twice when she'd licked her moustache. And then she had tripped backstage and gotten her hook (coat hanger and black plastic drinking glass,) caught in the curtain, a horror she still had bad dreams about. Cory's one theatrical appearance had been playing Michael in that very same play, and his only problem was the tendency to crack up when Julie/Hook tried to frighten him. Maybe it was the moustache. She still missed Cory.  
  
She was assuming that her new sibling would be a brother, though, as Dumbledore had referred to him as a 'he.' Julie wondered if he would look more like her mum or dad. Either way, little 'Whoever' would be an interesting change to an already over-complicated life, she knew. Maybe after all the mess with Santa Anna de Diablo and America was over, she would be able to babysit her little brother and do homework, more like a normal magic kid would do. She knew Kenny Longbottom sometimes had his baby sister in the first-years' dormitory while Professor and Mrs. Longbottom went out to dinner or something like that. It could be cool to have a little crib in her room with a baby brother to tell stories to. The idea of a playpen in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room with her father occasionally going over to amuse the baby also sounded decidedly fascinating.  
  
As soon as she was suitably dressed in new clothes and worn-out sneakers -very comfortably, Julie set out for rehearsal in the Transfiguration room. She knew that Draco and Uncle Ron would be arguing, though probably only about whether Viktor Krum or Alexei Navyena did the better Wronski Feint. They had gotten used to rehearsing their 'servitude' together, and therefore had put aside their antique animosity. It also seemed that Draco had once done something that impressed Uncle Ron, and for a specific reason the redhead was treating the patrician Professor Pureblood with more respect. She didn't know why, but it seemed that Uncle Harry and her father felt the same way sometimes. Ah, well. It was probably some impressive feat of spying during the war against Voldemort. She opened the door and stepped quietly in, only to be bowed deeply to as if she were the Queen of France.  
  
"Hail, milady," Draco intoned to her.  
  
Merlin's nails, he was a dish like that! Julie made a mental note to give Tom and Tim an entire Quidditch library should she become rich enough for making her professor's hair grow long like that. He looked like a seventeenth-century gentleman, especially with the neat roguish moutache and goatee beard.  
  
"Does her Darkness require anything?" Uncle Ron asked her.  
  
"Her Darkness? There's no way a Death Eater would call her that," Draco protested.  
  
"Well, 'your Grace' sounds too much like a vicar, y'know? She's supposed to be evil, after all, Malfoy."  
  
"I suggest," Julie announced in an icy tone, "that you refer to me as She- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." A shocked second passed where both Ron and Draco looked passably terrified and then Julie cracked up at them. "I'm sorry, that was just a little over-the-top, wasn't it?"  
  
"No, it was excellent. Can you make your eyes go red when you say that, though?"  
  
Julie thought hard. A bad thought...needed a bad thought...  
  
'Why don't you snog Draco in front of Uncle Ron?' the little voice inquired. 'That look of shock on Uncle Harry was funny, wasn't it?'  
  
Her eyes lit up red like a reindeer's nose.  
  
"Great! Say something evil."  
  
"Silence, lowly speck!" Julie checked her reflection in a nearby mirror and realized her eyes were still brilliant red. "How was that?"  
  
"It works better with the red eyes. How do you do that?"  
  
Julie just shrugged, not wanting to explain salacious or bad thoughts to her Uncle Ron. She knew he'd be only too happy to inquire just what she was thinking about. And considering all the thoughts at that moment involved his old school enemy, there was probably no use shattering his illusions as she almost had Uncle Harry's.  
  
A thought occured to her: she could maintain the red eyes with salaciousness. Shades of Tallulah Bankhead, but this was weird! With a furiously blushing giggle, she realized that keeping Draco along would be helpful in more ways than one. The Aurors gave her a look as if she were mad.  
  
"I'm sorry, my eyes go red when I have ...mischievous thoughts, and that last one was a little silly."  
  
"Really? What was it, Julie?" Uncle Ron looked as mischievous as his nephews.  
  
"I just considered the possibility of making you wear Death Eater uniforms."  
  
"Black robes? We are going to have to have insignia, you know, maybe the uniforms wouldn't be such a bad idea." Draco was talking to her like his equal more often around others because of their new mission, and since her not-precisely-messy breakup with her other guy, Julie was beginning to feel a little more secure about dating her parents' friend.  
  
"Uh, I don't think you would have liked the uniforms I had in mind." Julie gave her teacher a very Mae West-ish look, causing his eyebrows to nearly leap off his head and Uncle Ron to laugh.  
  
"What were you thinking, Julie?" Draco asked a bit sharply. This was obviously cue for an argument.  
  
"Oh, perhaps a loincloth made of fur and a pointy hat. I like my servants to remember their place, you know."  
  
"I'm not wearin' any loincloth!" Ron protested.  
  
"You will obey her Ladyship in whatever she commands," Draco intoned forbodingly, pretending to be serious.  
  
"Hey, he's got it nailed! Dish an' three-quarters!"  
  
A weird, twangy voice had just spoken. The Aurors and Julie turned toward the door.  
  
Standing next to a kindly beaming Dumbledore was a girl about Julie's age with reddish-brown hair and an infectious smile. She was dressed oddly enough, in tight Muggle jeans and a mottled blue button-shirt over a snug black one. She also had glasses that seemed to correct more than bad vision and what looked like the most dilapidated denim backpack since Julie's grandparents' time. The two girls looked at each other for a brief moment.  
  
"You must be the Brit who's gonna play Lady Voldemort. I'm Mitchie Tyler." The newcomer came over and boldly proffered Julie her hand, which Julie shook nervously.  
  
"I'm Julie Snape."  
  
"You must be the American." Draco greeted Mitchie with his hand out. "I'm Draco Malfoy. We were expecting you."  
  
"I wasn't." The stranger's presence had Julie entirely surprised.  
  
"Aren't they sendin' you all the memos, mate? You're the leader of this op'ration, aren't you?"  
  
"Uh, no, I'm not, I just play the leader 'cause my eyes turn red. And what the bloody are memos?"  
  
"Memorandums. Notes." Sometimes Draco could be so damn superior. "We were notified on Friday that our American cultural advisor would be arriving soon; where were you?"  
  
"Oops, I had a small matter of five exams to take and a Quidditch game!" Julie answered sarcastically. "Meaning no offense, Miss Tyler, but you're about my age."  
  
"Precisely. Tha's why your Minister Dumbledore had them send me. Say, where'd he go?"  
  
Dumbledore had simply dropped off the American. Uncle Ron spoke up.  
  
"I'm Ron Weasley. Are you going to be staying long?"  
  
"D'know, it looks like I'm gonna have to join up with you Brits at this Hogwarts place awhile. They've already sent over all my school stuff, can't think why they would."  
  
"Well, we might as well start the assimilations. Where's America?" Julie asked the stranger who had dared to call her guy a dish.  
  
"'Where's America?' Where's your compass? It's to the left of us, two thousand miles!"  
  
"Thought so."  
  
"Didn't they tell you where it was they were sendin' you?"  
  
"Well, yeah, but I sort of wondered just how far I would have to go. What else should we know about America?"  
  
"Well, it's not England by any stretch of the imagination, y'know. There's fifty states, which are like mini-countries, and forty-eight of them are on the mainland. The other two are Alaska and Hawaii, you probably won't see them."  
  
"I know that much. Where are you from?"  
  
"Pittsburgh, actually." Mitchie said this the way a Parisian announces their home city, as if it is the only place worth being in the entire world. Julie had, of course, never heard of it.  
  
"Where's that?"  
  
"Pennsylvania, of course." Mtchie said this as if it were obvious. "Where are you from?"  
  
"Why, London, naturally; Cobham to be exact."  
  
"Alright, I have no idea where you're from either. They're setting up your headquarters in New Orleans, you know, pity we can't be there in time for Mardi Gras."  
  
"Carnival? We celebrate that here as well," Draco informed her.  
  
"Yeah, but nobody does it like they do in New Orleans…so I'm told. They're also supposed to have a very large amount of French words there…I know exactly one sentence, hello, goodbye, pencil, and can count to ten. I can't help you there."  
  
"I can speak a fair amount. I was in Paris last year."  
  
"Really? Soudainement, tout le monde tout les ecrase par un camion."  
  
Draco suddenly burst into laughter at this statement. Julie figured it must be something to do with Monday and camions, whatever those things were.  
  
"Why New Orleans?" Ron asked.  
  
"It's all bayous and kudzu down there, kinda scary, especially if you're Mexican. The idea of this is to lure that Dyablo guy in and nuke him, right?"  
  
"That seems to be the goal," Julie observed a little sharply. She did not like the idea of this encroaching little…Yank calling Draco a dish again. "Tell me, Miss Tyler-"  
  
"Mitchie. It's short for Michelle, y'see."  
  
"Alright… Mitchie, I was wondering exactly how old you are. Just for reference."  
  
"Almost sixteen, just like you, Julie. That's why your Minister of Magic asked for me, because we're the same age, y'know. It certainly wasn't for my grasp on American teenage culture, def'nitely." For a second a little bit of homesickness flashed across the stranger's eyes. "It wasn't for my availability, either."  
  
Julie instantly regretted being so jealous so fast. Merlin's hangnails, she was being a git today!  
  
"Yeah, I was wondering, you must be in fifth year at school just like me."  
  
"Fifth year? I'm a sophomore. What's this fifth-year stuff?"  
  
"It's two years before you graduate?"  
  
"Oh yeah, you guys put seventh- and eighth-graders in the same building. Yeah, we're in the same grade then. Do you play any sports?"  
  
"Just Quidditch. I'm a Seeker."  
  
"Vet'ran cosmic! I play Keeper. We don't play that much. Americans have always got to go and be different. Sometimes it's cool, but mostly it ticks me off 'cause there's less Quidditch games than the other sports. I used to follow the British teams when I was kid through the newspapers."  
  
"Which was your favorite?"  
  
"Chudley Cannons. They seemed like they'd be the most fun to actually play beside."  
  
Julie smiled. Mitchie had just about declared herself Uncle Ron's relative by virtue of liking the Cannons. Sure enough, the red-haired man grinned as if he'd found a long-lost cousin. Draco gave the American a scrutinizing look.  
  
"Did you just say 'vet'ran cosmic'?" he asked, with an eyebrow raised.  
  
"Yeah, what of that?" Mitchie retorted. Julie grinned and began to quote:  
  
"Be it sight, sound, smell or touch,  
  
There's something inside that we need so much,"  
  
"The sight of a touch or the scent of a sound  
  
Or the strength of an oak with roots deep underground," Mitchie capped the line, a smile growing on her face as well.  
  
"The wonder of flowers, to be covered and then-"  
  
"To burst up, through tarmac, to the sun again,"  
  
"Or to fly to the sun without burning a wing,"  
  
"To lie in the meadow and hear the grass sing,"  
  
"To have all these things in our memory's hoard," they continued in unison:  
  
1 "And to use them, to help us, to find-"  
  
And they both cracked up.  
  
"I don't get it," Uncle Ron said obtusely.  
  
"A Muggle thing," Draco clarified. "Sort of like a cult."  
  
"It is not!" both girls protested.  
  
"They're your favorite, too?" Mitchie asked Julie.  
  
"Definitely! Did you see their new 'Hall of Fame' concert?"  
  
"You didn't get to go, did you?"  
  
"Oh, no way, it was long sold out. Tried like bugger, though."  
  
"What are they talking about?" Ron asked Malfoy as the girls became passingly more incoherent by the second.  
  
"I kind of lost them at the poem," he admitted. "That's so clever of Dumbledore to bring a fellow junkie in, though."  
  
"Hey, she digs the Cannons! I think she'll turn out okay."  
  
"I just wonder where Dumbledore found this kid."  
  
********************************************  
  
"I have a special announcement," Professor McGonagall said at dinner that night. "Hogwarts is very pleased to welcome out first American exchange student, Miss Michelle Tyler of the Morrison Academy."  
  
There was a varied amount of applause as a nervous Mitchie appeared from a side door in her American clothes, which weren't a school uniform. The Gryffindors, having been briefed on the newcomer's character, were the loudest of all in the applauding, whilst the Slytherins sort of scanned the newcomer as if she might give them all fleas. The Sorting Hat was on a chair to Headmistress McGonagall's left, and it was evident that Mitchie was totally scared of it.  
  
The room went silent and the hat went over Mitchie's awry mahogany hair quickly. All that could be seen of the American's face was a trembling lip and a fairly standard Irish-model nose. For almost thirty seconds the hat deliberated, until it finally shouted out:  
  
"Gryffindor!"  
  
Julie and her friends were on their feet to welcome their temporary housemate, and the whole table quickly joined them in enthusiastically welcoming the newcomer. Mitchie sank at last into the seat across from Julie, before going totally silent as Professor McGonagall continued. Meanwhile, Julie passed Chloe a little note:  
  
Chloe,  
  
I've attended to the problem, no more day tripping. Can we be friends again?  
  
-J. S. S.  
  
Chloe scribbled her reply on the back of it:  
  
Julie,  
  
I was wondering when you'd get around to this. Of course, if you'll tell me which one you kept.  
  
-C. M. D.-D.  
  
Julie got the first-year's attention and made a small hand gesture; scratching her upper lip and then mimicking a ferret's paw. Chloe's green eyes lit up and she hastily scribbled another note:  
  
And you accuse me of being French all the time!  
  
-C.  
  
Julie smiled and glanced back at Mitchie. To her surprise, the American seemed absolutely enthralled in gazing at something or someone about seven feet away. Julie nudged her twice and finally had to poke her with a fork to get her attention.  
  
"Julie, who is that?" Mitchie asked, her voice sounding half-asleep.  
  
"The Weasley boys? Uncle Ron's nephews?"  
  
"No, the one with the red ponytail. Who is that?"  
  
Julie realized that the foreigner was gazing longingly at her Scottish ex. For a moment she was jealous, and then with a final wrench severed the bond of attraction to Donaghan. She glanced at her blond professor and then answered Mitchie:  
  
"Oh, that's Donaghan McPhersen, the Quidditch captain. Want me to introduce you?"  
  
Mitchie went absolutely pale.  
  
"N-n- I don't think-"  
  
"Naw, he's really nice. Just hold on a tick." Julie got up amid the American's protestations and walked down to where the Scotwolf was trying to cut his food despite wearing leather gloves. Julie knew he was probably wearing them to hide the fur that persisted through the first few months of transformations. "Hey, Donaghan, could you come over and meet the new Yank we got?"  
  
"Oh, sure, Julie," he answered obligingly, getting up and accompanying her over to where Mitchie was.  
  
The poor American looked as if Julie had gone down the table and brought Ewan McGregor back, standing nervously and going paler than ever. For his own part, Donaghan suddenly looked as if he'd found something he'd looked for for awhile and never found. Julie introduced them as calmly as she could, as she was inclined to both giggle hysterically and chew out her own liver, only to have the two of them stare at each other and almost incoherently mutter the pleasantries. She moved her chair over and then let them start to chat, as Chloe switched places with Aldous, thus moving next to her.  
  
"Now that was a Gryffindor thing to do."  
  
"So that's why it feels like a lion just bit my guts."  
  
"No, seriously. It was the right thing to do. They're dead gone, easy."  
  
"I only hope you're right."  
  
"Can I ask you for a small favor?" Chloe asked.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Take me along with you to New Orleans."  
  
****************************** 


	33. And If You Came Along

bA/N: Again, I must apologize for the long time in between uploads, but it is the rainy season in my area right now, and the thunderstorms keep knocking our phonelines out. That usually shorts out the digital cable, too, so I wind up either playing vinyl records or watching 'Moulin Rouge' for the odd-hundredth time whilst I tap away at homework for my inbound tutoring and this story for the reviewers who respond to it so faithfully. I'm not really allowed to do much of anything, as the doctors finally discovered why I've been having seizures and losing peripheral vision. Whatever a pituitary adema is, I've got one, and basically that's what's keeping me home from school to write for you. I'm also working on an original novel, which I don't plan to upload or even type until I have it really good, you know. I'm something of a perfectionist git about writing now. Anyway, here you go.

Chapter Thirty-Three: And If You Came Along…

"What?"

"I want to go along. That's why the Yank's here, isn't it? You're doing something in New Orleans, I was eavesdropping."

"Chloe, I don't have that kind of authority. And it's ging to be really dangerous, why would you want to go anyway?"

"Julie, it's New Orleans. I'd use any excuse I could get to go. And besides, somebody's got to keep an eye on you."

"Uncle Ron and Mitchie are going!"

Chloe indicated the transfixed American, who was still perfectly oblivious to everything but Donaghan.

"You could hand her a scorpion right now and she wouldn't notice. I get the impression that she's not the most observant type."

"Precisely!" Julie exclaimed, her eyes brilliant red. Chloe's jaw dropped in amused shock.

"You are getting really out of control, you do know that, Julie?"

"Know it, I've got to put up with it! Never be fifteen, Chloe, it's an ugly age to be."

"I keep forgetting you aren't my age sometimes."

"That's very flattering," Julie replied sarcastically. "It makes the whole ferret thing so much easier to handle."

"I thought it would. So can you get me in or not?"

"What'll you do to me if I tell you I can't?"

"If you try, I'll be alright, but if you don't I'll… Aldous, what would really tick Julie off?"

"Tell her parents about the hollow book full of Dungbombs- no, wait, that's Tom. Uh, you could leave pieces from one of Weasleys' Transvestite Wizard Chess Sets all around her room."

"I don't think that would be sufficiently horrible," Chloe observed.

"Aldous, why are you helping her torment me?" Julie asked plaintively.

"Because she asked me. Do spiders bother you much, Julie?"

"Not especially."

"Oh. Maybe a rubber rat in her bed sometime."

"Don't you dare!" Julie warned, seeing Chloe's cheerful little smile getting dangerous. "I'll ask."

"Ask what?" Aldous asked.

"I've decided I want to do something," Chloe said.

"Oh. Say no more." The Chaser was used to his small girlfriend's sometimes-bizarre whims. "Just don't get hurt or turned into a cat again."

"Cat?" Julie asked.

Chloe smacked Aldous gently upside the head.

"Absolutely nothing, Julie! Say, are you going to audition for the play next week?"

"You're changing the subject again, aren't you?"

"Yes. Who do you think I should try out for?"

"Well, if you could stop being more mouthy than me for a whole minute I'd say Hero, but otherwise you could play Beatrice excellently."

"I don't think I've got much shot at a lead. I'm eleven. Actually, the one lady, the one who goes to trick Beatrice with Hero, what's her name?"

"Ursula? She's supposed to be, like, old and stuff!"

"If you could be an eleven-year-old French _boy_ when you were nine, I can certainly carry off an Italian lady's maid."

"That was an emergency!"

"You never know, I might get it."

"Why don't you try out for one of the leads anyway?"

"Because it's hopeless. Nobody's going to want Ursula, and besides, that would be more of a challenge. I think you were born to play Beatrice."

"Can't. Miss Parkington already had me understudy that at Broughton, she won't cast me again in it."

"Well, I can't see you carrying off 'meek and innocent' any more than your dad could play Richard the Third in drag. What else could she possibly do with you?"

"I could be Margaret."

"Sorry, you aren't quite that slutty yet. You're certainly working on it, but I doubt you'll be as bad as Jen Blodgett in time."

"Speaking of, I think Jem Blodgett would make an excellent Borachio," Aldous observed. They had all been given copies of Shakespeare's 'Much Ado About Nothing' to study and most of the Gryffindors had read it through the very first day. "Either him or Lyff Grudgett. I think Matt Flint's got Don John in his back pocket."

"Definitely," Chloe agreed. "I think Professor Pureblood could be Leonato, though."

Julie choked on her pumpkin juice and gave Chloe a look of absolute venom.

"I sincerely doubt that," she said menacingly under her breath.

"Naw, I think 'Fessor Malfoy could do quite well as Benedick," Aldous observed.

Julie was not having an easy time with her drink at all. Chloe burst into airy laughter at the sight of her older friend putting down her goblet as if it might kill her the next time she attempted to drink out of it.

"He could pull that off," Julie agreed with Aldous. "Who would you cast as Dogberry, though?"

"Maybe Mack or one of the Weasley boys. You have to be kind of silly to play him, what with the imaginary horses and all of that."

Just then an owl landed on Julie's shoulder. The note was merely a guitar chord drawn in grid style with the notation 'G7m' above it. Aldous and Chloe were puzzed by it and asked Julie what it meant.

"It's G seventh minor for a guitar. The dots are where you put your fingers on the frets, you know."

"Frets?"

"The little lines on the neck, y'know, the part your left hand plays the notes on?"

"Oh." 

"Why would anybody send you a chord and not a proper note?" Julie and Aldous laughed at Chloe's clever joke.

Actually, Julie knew exactly why someone would send her a chord. It was the new password to get past Bodrick the Unmusical.

She had a date that night, definitely.

******************************************** 

Now this was weird. Severus had seen a figure with a much darker ponytail than Draco's going into the portrait hole almost every night for a solid week. He assumed that Malfoy was either tutoring or punishing a student with long detentions, and he decided to investigate.

"'Allo, man," the goblin greeted him in a very well-counterfeited imitation of Ringo Starr. "Got the password?"

"G seventh minor."

"Groovy." The portrait swung aside.

To Severus's horror, not only was the student his daughter, but she and Malfoy were arguing very vocally with open paperback books in their hands. It took him a second to realize they were merely rehearsing lines.

"I had no idea that de Diablo was so terrified of Shakespearean comedy."

"Dad, you scared me!" Julie protested. "We're both auditioning tomorrow at the drama club."

"Pray, continue. I believe you actually managed to hint at the character."

Julie scowled briefly at him and continued:

"A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours."

"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue. Nay, I am finished!" Draco made as if to turn away, while Julie read her next line perfectly. Or at least she thought it was perfectly. Her father abruptly stood up and took the script away from her.

"No, no, no. That line refers to the unmentioned history between the two. You have to say that a little more ruefully, make it cynical. Try it this way..."

And to Julie's vast amusement, her father proceeded to give her acting advice on the lines of a female character. Then she and Draco flipped forward to the scene at the masked party, and Severus wound up showing Draco a better way to do a truly ridiculous foreign accent. It was especially fun when they attempted the first scene Benedick and Beatrice realize they don't hate each other; as Julie had no problem kissing Draco it seemed to give her dad a little bit of a scare.

"By my troth, Beatrice, thou love'st me!" Draco exclaimed in perfect character, only to have his script confiscated by his ex-Head of House.

"I think you both have fairly decent shots at landing parts, if you can get these memorized as well as being able to read it with inflection."

Draco got the message and recited Benedick's monologue where he condemns the idea of love as an excessively trivial and basically nauseating thing. Next, Severus put Julie through the paces of Beatrice's scene at the masked ball with Leonato and Hero, both of which parts he read.

"Aren't you auditioning?" Malfoy asked.

"Why should I?"

"Because you're good, Daddy," Julie observed mildly. "Your 'Hero's a little frightening, but you did 'Leonato' very well. Why don't you read Don John's villian speech in Act One?"

"I don't think that would be-"

"Oh, come on, Sev, it'll be fun."

"Isn't watching the Bard's comedy be vivisected by amateurs enough without myself adding to the cacophonous riot this production promises to be?"

"There again, you do use a lot of big words, there, maybe you should play Conrade."

"It'd be neat to see whether I got this acting thing from you."

Severus sighed.

"I'll audition, but it's just for the fun of it, alright, Julie?" he offered.

"Okay."

********************************************** 

It was easily the biggest mistake of the elder Snape's life since gambling on the Quidditch game. A month and a half had him dressed in period costume for Messina, Italy, in Shakespeare's time, with his hair artfully charmed to a salt-and-pepper gray.

"Calm down, you make a good Leonato, Dad." Julie was fixing his cravat.

"Yes, Beatrice," he replied a little nastily.

"At least this is one of Mum's favorite plays."

"She's one of the reasons why I ever read most of the plays that this Shakespeare wrote. Before her, I really wasn't much into comedies."

"And now look at you, you're a relative lead in one."

"A lead's relative and a relative lead at once, how clever. That Judy Parkington is giving in to type casting."

"Hey, she cast Mitchie as Hero, didn't she?"

"That may be the most surprising thing about this play."

"No, I think this bloody accent is," Mitchie observed, sweeping in and sticking out her tongue at Julie. "Thee? It'th all bruithed."

"Hey, I've done it for fifteen-odd years."

"You grew up on this ruddy island, though, didn' you? Let's see you try to talk without sounding like the fifth Beatle!"

"Sure thing, y'all. Ah jes' cain't wait to see yoah sweet little ole country!"

Mitchie winced as Julie used a deep Southern American accent, not too badly, but it was funny considering her white Tuscan dress and costume hairstyle. 

"And I assume you're going to show me all of Cobham, then?" she replied, in a dead-on impersonation of John Lennon with her glasses moved down her nose a bit. "The English are just so bloody fascinating sometimes an' all."

"Why not? Y'all goin' ta' show me yoah little ole hometown after we kick that damnyankee Dyablo, aren't ya?"

"Excuse me, Limey, but we do not refer to Pittsburgh as 'little ole' unless you happen to be thirty-seven feet tall and two minutes old."

"Excuse me, Yank, but we do not refer to our fellow actresses as limeys," Miss Parkington observed calmly. "Twenty minutes 'til curtain, everyone!"

*********************************************** 

Almost everyone at Hogwarts called Mitchie 'Yank' or 'damnyankee,' the former as an almost affectionate term, the latter as an insult by some Slytherins. Lyff Grudgett had set out the very day after her improptu Sorting to bother her, but both Julie and Donaghan protected their foreign friend with a surrounding border of Gryffindors at all times. Already Tom and Tim had mastered several of the American accents under her tutelage, and they drove people crazy switching from Brooklyn to Pittsburgh to Southern and back in the course of one argument between the two. 

For her own part, Mitchie had abruptly 'gone arse over teakettle' (in Julie's words) for Donaghan, and with a hint of Slytherinish interrogation skill got the story of Julie and his relationship from Chloe, minus the name of the new guy she was now seeing. After about ten minutes of American time-wasting, including a solid five devoted to how wonderful Scottish guys sounded compared to Americans, Mitchie got to the point and asked her new friend if it was alright if she asked him out.

"Mitchie, I'm over him. Of course it is!"

"No, you're not! You couldn't be! How could anybody get over Donaghan?"

"Mitch, it's not like I don't have someone else, you know."

"I was unaware that Ewan McGregor was at Hogwarts."

Julie sighed. She'd have to take the American into confidence to convince her.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure." Mitchie spat in her hand and held it out to Julie, who was in the process of doing the same.

"Why'd you-" they both started.

"It was a Matthews thing." Mitchie asserted.

"It was a Broughton thing." Julie replied, startled.

"You were an orphan, too?" they both almost shrieked.

"But you have parents, I've seen them!"

"I found out two months ago!" Briefly Julie outlined her past. Mitchie was shocked, having very neatly found her own English counterpart.

"I got sent to a wizarding foster home when I was ten. The Morrison Academy isn't a boarding school."

"This is so freaky! We're like...long-separated twins or something."

"'Scuse me, but I do_ not _look like your twin, darkhair."

"Nor do I resemble you, foureyes, but I'm starting to wonder if this isn't coincidence."

"Well, your Minister sent for me personally. I thought that was really kind of odd. I mean, I hardly ever went to church anyways."

"What's church to do with it?"

"He's a minister, isn't he?"

"Cripes, you dumb Yanks. 'Minister' to us is like 'governor.'"

"I suspected that. He wasn't wearing a liturgical collar –not that I could necessarily tell under that beard, and normally ministers seem a lot more...well, you know, holy. He reminded me of how you'd expect Merlin or King Alfred to look, impressive, but still kind and sort of mischievous."

"I think we've just discovered the mischievous."

"So who is it you're dating? It'd have to be somebody completely incredible for you to be over Donaghan. I mean, he's got those eyes, and that gorgeous smile and that accent...rrrr! It's like when I used to watch Ewan McGregor movies as a little kid."

"Try James Marsters." Julie spat in her hand and held it out toward Mitchie.

"You _aren't!"_ Mitchie spat in hers as well and they shook on it. "He's your professor!"

"'Zat a problem, _petit chat?"_ Julie asked in a flawless New Orleans Cajun dialect. _"C'est magnifique, non?"_

"Well, sure he's dishy, but so's your dad. He's gonna kill you if he finds out what you're doing with Pureblood."

"I rather wish people would think of something better to call him- you think my _dad's_ dishy?"

"Incredibly, kind of in a weird Alan Rickman way."

"Fine. I'll snog Spike while you lust after the Metatron. We are _not_ twins, you sick monkey!"

"I didn't say I was lusting after him! I just appreciate a nice longhaired guy when I see one, even if he did take six points from Gryffindor for the way I pronounced 'herbs' and docked my essay three points because I forgot that you limeys put a 'u' in the word 'color.' Pardon me for not getting the memo on that."

"Are you seriously thinking of asking Donaghan out?"

"Yeah, I was thinking maybe to the Three Broomsticks for some jaggers and then maybe a fly around the towers for a little while."

"What the bugger's a jagger?"

"That's what we call thorn sodas in America, or thorn pop if you're really desperately Pittsburgh."

"I've never heard of such a thing."

"Well, do the Muggles have Diet Coke?"

"If you know where to find it, yeah."

"That's sort of what jaggers taste like, only with a serious aftertaste. I've probably got about three left in my footlocker upstairs, y'know, private stash."

"What's a footlocker?"

"Trunk. Do you really think he might go with me?"

"Well, I'm not sure how he'll react to you asking him out, but since you're foreign he'll probably just assume it's perfectly correct where you come from. It is, right?"

"Well, not exactly. It's acceptable, but not really often done. How do you date –you know, without causing a flurry of wild gossip?"

"I don't. We just sort of meet and talk about stuff or rehearse more."

"Is that _all?"_

"No, but I don't want to do any more spitting."

"You English," Mitchie observed in exasperation, taking off her glasses to polish them and shutting her eyes. "How do you think you can possibly get away with this, dating a guy who's likely older than your mum?"

"He's three months younger!" Julie protested weakly. "And my mum got away with it, didn't she?"

"She did? I thought your father seemed older, but not quite that much. Was he a professor, too?"

"Yeah, I'm technically illegitimate, you know."

"How can you be technically illegitimate? They're married, aren't they, and your mother uses her maiden name to prevent things being confusing, right?"

"Yeah, but I was born before that. Illegitimate."

"Not by American standards. Oh, sure, it's still a little bit frowned on by right-wingers, but generally that happens a lot to Muggle actors and musicians, noone gives it a thought. So many people are divorced and remarried so many times over that to have your original parents in one house is considered quite something, you know. There's very little odd about your family."

"What would you do if you found yours?"

"Oh, I won't. I know for certain what happened to mine. Car wreck, drunk driver, you know the tale."

"That's terrible, I'm so sorry!" For a few seconds both of the girls were quiet. "Can you remember what they were like at all?"

Quietly Mitchie replied:

"They were driving me home from the hospital."

And that was how Julie discovered her new friend's past. Now, three weeks later, they were playing cousins in a Shakespearean comedy. Like orangutans, they groomed each other's hair and made other such minor adjustments before checking their reflections in a full-length mirror.

"We'd look a damn sight more related without your nose, Limey."

"That goes for those glasses, too, Yank."

 "Hey, I can take these off." Mitchie took off the offending spectacles and shut her eyes totally, unable to bear even the backstage light.

"And that red hair! You and Donaghan are reinventing the Weasley clan."

"Are they?" Tim asked interestedly. 

"I don't think they've got it red enough," Tom observed.

"Speak of the devil, Julie," Mitchie chastised her friend. "Not that ravens have any room to talk, y'know."

"Ravens?" Julie protested.

"Forgive me, crows," Mitchie clarified.

"Is it just me or do you two not like each other?" Chloe asked, suddenly popping up in her costume –as Ursula.

"Actually, we're better friends than anyone realizes," Julie said.

"We're arguing because we're both terrified. I have to kiss Donaghan onstage, you know." Mitchie tried her best not to smile happily at this prospect. Julie gave her a cynical little grin.

"I don't think you have much to be worried about, Yankee."

"Yeah!" Tom interjected. "Poor Julie's got to lip-lock with Professor Pureblood for crying out loud, Mitchie!"

"Speaking of, did you see Madam Pomfrey about a tetanus?" Tim asked her. "You'd better be up on all your immunizations."

That seemed to remind Mitchie of something. She excused herself and almost bolted to where Donaghan was giving his boots a last polish with a cloth and wand. The four Gryffindors watched as she got his attention and whispered something in his ear. Donaghan then caught her arm as she tried to run away and appeared to make an impassioned point. Finally, a very nervous Mitchie whispered something else in his ear, then took off her glasses to clean a tear away. It was odd the way she couldn't open her eyes without her glasses on. Donaghan looked shocked for a second and then kissed her long and well, at which performance Chloe, Julie, Tim and Tom all burst into applause.

"I am, too," Donaghan whispered, and Chloe was grateful for learning how to read lips years ago. She didn't need spit in her hand to keep it a secret, though.

********************************************* 

At intermission, Julie took advantage of the short break to crack open a butterbeer and squiff half of it down within ten seconds. Tom and Tim came up behind her and tapped her shoulders, almost causing her to jump right out of her corset there.

"Cripes! Do you have to scare me like that?"

"We have something for you," Tim announced, holding up a small vial with a cork in it.

"It should help you with kissing the ferret an' all tonight," Tom explained.

Now Julie knew full well how bad the situation was. If she insisted she could handle it, it would only be a matter of time before they put two and two together. Even if she tried to make a show of bravery out of it, this could shoot their trust of her in the foot.

"Thank you so much!" she wound up saying, as if a probably-illegal potion was just what she had been hoping for. "What's it do exactly?"

"It helps to remove strong emotions temporarily,"

"Such as distaste, loathing, and profound disgust at the idea of kissing someone."

"Instead it'll be like kissing one of us, you know,"

"Minus the pure animal lust for our manly bodies, of course," Tim joked.

"Thanks, guys!" With only a small amount of trepidation, Julie downed the contents of the vial and chased it with butterbeer. For a few moments she wondered if the Muggle rule of never mixing medication with alcohol applied, or even if butterbeer had alcohol in it. For some reason she had never remembered to ask Madame Rosmerta about that, and the taste didn't give a thing away as to it's nature. Oh, well. She felt very warm and fuzzy inside now, like the way one feels when you wake up before everyone else and have another two hours to nap before your alarm goes off.

She didn't think to ask the boys what the potion they had given her was called.

************************************************ 

A/N: Does that explain a bit more? I purposely cut last chapter off before it was revealed how Chloe had found out about New Orleans, as it seemed like a nice cliffhanger to make my reviewers keep coming back. As of now I haven't quite thought of any excuse Julie might use to get her on the trip, but I know she/I'll think of something. Perhaps something to do with that little being one-eighth veela thing. What does everyone think of Mitch so far? I have a great long outline of what's going to happen, just a big framework, and she needs to be there, so I'm sorry if the Xerox effect annoys anyone. Thanks for reviewing so faithfully!

-J.McN.


	34. I Know You Couldn't Disagree

A/N: There's a certain spell component in this chapter that I got from somewhere…thirty house points if you can identify it, where I got it, and what it is used for. Here you go.

Chapter Thirty-Four: I Know You Couldn't Disagree…

"Why the- where am-?"

Julie was dancing on the wire between consciousness and oblivion again. She had started to look ill and slur her speech at the cast party, making Draco and Chloe suspect intoxication, until the Weasley boys had guiltily shook their heads. Professor Malfoy had demanded to know just what they had given her, and when he found out it was Distancia Extract boiled with Lethe's Bramble, the word he used was unfit for any first-year's ears in the room. He then took forty points from Gryffindor and demanded to know where they'd got the drug. Draco would probably have given them detentions clipping a dragon's nails had Julie not collapsed in his arms just then.

Two hours of absolute hell later, she was waking up in his bed.

"Julie?" Draco was still in his Benedick costume, which included leather pants, a pair of boots, and a seventeenth-century Italian tunic complete with laces and sleeves that made him look silly in his own opinion. "Are you alright?"

Julie opened her eyes and looked at him as if he were crazy, backing away from him against the headboard and searching her corseted waist for her usual knife. It was plain from the way she looked at him that she either had no idea who he was or didn't realize that she had only been sleeping there.

"What art thou doing in my chambers? Get thee gone or I will call the watch!"

"Julie, what's wrong? You're-"

"Nothing is wrong save your presence here! And how dare you call me by that name?" For a moment Draco stood petrified, until Julie suddenly realized what was going on and shook her head as if yawning.

"Crimeny, how long have I been out like that?"

"Just a little over two hours. That potion Tim and Tom gave you did it. Can you remember what you were doing before you got sick?"

"We had finished the play, it was the cast party, I had just told Chloe I had arranged for her to come with us –did I tell you that? And then I saw Mitchie and Donaghan and talked to Mack for awhile, and then I saw you, and…" Julie tried to remember some more. "Yeah, that's it."

"Alright, good. What they gave you is essentially a drug designed to create semi-euphoria for combat use with an ingredient to reduce your memory of what you did under its influence."

"Wizard roofies."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"There are Muggle drugs that do that. They were trying to help me, though, not realizing I have no problem whatsoever with kissing you."

"I still took forty points from Gryffindor."

"Draco! You've really got to keep it in mind that I'm in the same house as them. It's not a happy feeling to know that I'm snogging you despite all the points you take off from us."

"So you'll still kiss me even though I did that?"

"If I really must." For a few seconds they were happily occupied. "Do Mum and Dad know where I am?"

"Cripes! I forgot to have someone let them know when you passed out! They were over with Judy and Ron; I'm such a git sometimes."

"That's alright, we can just race back and pretend we were rehearsing or having an argument." Julie stood up and almost as quickly sank back onto the bed, almost entirely exhausted.

"I don't think you're in any shape for that."

"Nonsense. How many people would you say saw us leave?"

"Just the little blond one –Chloe, right? -the two Weasleys, McPhersen, and the Yank, Tyler."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty much. It was a party, after all."

"I still think we'd better go back. Merlin's ears, is this where you sleep, m'duck?"

Draco nodded.

"What gave me away, the snake cage or the Slytherin tapestry?"

"I was thinking these," Julie observed, indicating the velvet quilt, which depicted an M.C. Escher-esque pattern of serpents going in several different directions. "I had no idea geometry was one of the many loves of Slytherins."

"Geometry? What's that?"

"Never mind. It's a branch of Muggle mathematics, you draw pictures a lot. Let's go." Julie again tried to get up and wound up leaning heavily against the bed as she attempted walking. "Make yourself useful," she commanded in her best Dark Lady tone, and Draco obediently put one of her arms over his neck and began to help her out of his rooms. 

"Now here's an idea! We can say you sprained your ankle! ...or something."

"I don't think Madam Pomfrey could be fooled that easily, and 'sprained brain' isn't going to work in her case."

"No, you're right. Maybe I should just let your dad know about what those boys gave you."

"Please don't! They'll never get out of detention for giving it to me and I'll never get out for taking it."

"How about I say someone spiked your drink?"

"That should do. What exactly _was _it they gave me?"

"Distancia Extract boiled with Lethe's Bramble."

"I've never heard of it, not that that's saying much for it's obscurity. I know that Lethe was a famous nymph in Greek mythology."

"The idea of nymphs and dryads always bothered me. I prefer my women to be all human, none of those part-veela the French take so seriously."

"That's why Chloe's coming, by the way. She's going to cast the Standard Attraction Spell her mum taught her, and we'll keep everyone convinced she's all-veela and my henchwoman. Isn't that clever?"

"Excepting the fact that she's such a _little_ veela, I think it may work."

They waved goodbye to Bodrick the Unmusical, who was trying to restring his bloodstained guitar with blistered fingers. Julie winced a little and Malfoy gave her an odd look.

"I tried to play the guitar once –it did not go well and I can sympathize."

"Oh."

"Did you ever try to play any instruments?"

"My mother taught me how to play the violin."

"Cool. Can you still do it?"

"I haven't picked one up in years, but I suppose I could. What went wrong with the guitar?"

"I split this finger open and needed five stitches." Julie showed him a little scar. "For some reason I didn't like it much afterward."

Draco smiled and held her a little closer as they walked. Julie leaned up and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. He was about to kiss her back 'properly' but noticed her raised eyebrow just in time.

"Thanks for helping me, Professor. It'll be a cold day in hell before I take a potion from them again."

"It's nothing, Miss Snape, just try to know what's in any drink anyone gives you, -especially the Weasley boys." Malfoy indicated his long hair with a wry smile, wondering all the time why Julie had suddenly gone into 'we're being watched' mode.

"Really, when I get ahold of those damn- ACCIO!" 

Julie suddenly held something diaphanous and silky in her free hand, whilst Tim and Tom Weasley were guiltily crouched near a suit of armor. Draco realized what she had done and burst into laughter as she just grinned evilly.

"I suggest you think twice before spying on me again,"she observed in a voice as silken and horrific as her father's. "Sir Timorus's suit of armor rattles like a gong."

The fact that Draco had heard anything only impressed him more.

"Are you okay, Julie?" Tom asked in abject horror.

"Aside from feeling as if I had swallowed a Bludger, great. What the hell did that tripe you gave me do?"

"It was supposed to make you not hate Prof-" Tim stopped cold.

"Well, I've still got weird side effects coming out my ears! Are you certain you even did it right?"

"Miss Snape, you shouldn't get excited," Draco warned. "The toxins are still in your system and they can hurt you badly."

"Alright, Malfoy, considering I need you to help me walk around, I won't tick you off." Julie's arm suddenly felt just a little slack. "I'll see you guys back in the common room."

Still stunned, Tim and Tom took their Invisibility Cloak and scampered off. Malfoy snorted with Slytherinish laughter for a moment after they were gone, but when he looked back to Julie he was surprised to see she still looked genuinely ill.

"Are you alright?"

"Uh, I d'know, I just feel kind of dizzy now."

"Alright, listen to me! The important thing is for you not to fall asleep. This is a common reaction to the Distancia. Just don't fall asleep, do you hear me?"

"Sure."

Draco picked Julie up deftly and began almost to run toward the Hospital Wing. Several times he caught her with her eyes shut and shook her gently, trying to keep her awake. What he did not tell her was if she did fall asleep, the Distancia Potion could completely erase her memory for even years back. He wasn't sure how much she had gotten, but as enough of it could set a full-grown soldier back to his toddler days, he felt desperate to ensure she got to the antidote.

"Draco, what is it?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Distancia Potion with Lethe's Bramble…I don't know how much. Julie, are you awake?" He put her down on a convenient bed and tapped her shoulder.

"Yeah, don't yell at me."

Madam Pomfrey pulled two small vials out of a cupboard and deftly applied a Sonorus charm to Julie's heart, as wizards did not use stethoscopes. She then mixed the entire contents of the two vials in another and took out an eyedropper.

"Hold still," she instructed, pointing her wand at Julie's arm.

The Seeker felt a brief sting in the middle of her wrist, and then slow burning as Madam Pomfrey put the acidic antidote directly into her blood drop by tiny drop. Next the mediwitch handed Draco what looked like a pocketwatch and instructed him to keep track of her heart rate.

"Tell me when she gets to seventy-five per minute."

Next, Draco was calling out numbers, all in the high hundred-forties, then in the hundred-twenties, then the nineties, the eighties…

"Seventy-five!"

"Good." 

The drops stopped coming. Julie felt her wrist go numb and then back to it's normal self, and instantly she felt better than she had in days.

"Is that all?" she asked, trying to get off the bed.

"No, don't!" Draco caught her by the shoulders and made her lie back down. "It's only the euphoria, you're not okay! If you don't hold still you could have a heart attack, so sit down and try not to talk too much."

"Okay, Draco," Julie agreed quietly. A second passed and then her eyebrows went up in shock, realizing Madam Pomfrey must have heard her use his name. Fortunately Malfoy was able to cover it.

"Just don't mess up and call me that in class sometime. Your 'Uncle Harry' isn't half as strict as I can be."

"You've really found yourself in quite the odd family, haven't you?" Madam Pomfrey smiled kindly, as Julie nodded rather frantically. "I suppose I should have expected this when we found out your parents had gone and eloped. A better example of opposites attracting I've _never_ seen, and it's always the children who wind up having fun from it." The friendly mediwitch sighed and Summoned chairs for herself and Malfoy then. "Take your friend Chloe Davies, her mother was brilliant, cultured, foreign; meanwhile her father played Quidditch and thought of little else. I shudder to imagine what _her_ parents' friends are like when they're put into one room. And then there's Viktor and Svetlana Krum, and of course the Weasley twins…"

Julie relaxed. Madam Pomfrey would be good for another hour of anecdotes, most of them funny, and it was more than likely she could steal a glance at Draco without her noticing. As it happened, Madam Pomfrey was in rare form, enlightening both Seekers with a very funny but mildly innapropriate tale of April Fool's Day six years ago. At that time, Draco had been on assignment to Belgium, so he too had missed Julie's parents having their clothes slowly and systematically switched as they ate dinner by Professors Flitwick and Sinistra until Severus stood up and personally encountered underwires and a skirt.

"I don't suppose he'd teach he how to do that spell," Julie wondered aloud. "I think Tim and Tom with the Blodgett twins could be nice."

"No," Draco drawled, a grin lighting up his face. "I think their _mothers_ would be better, wouldn't you say, Jules?"

His endearment went right over Madam Pomfrey's head.

"I've said too much!"

"What's going on in here?" a rather pale Professor Snape asked, appearing at the door. "Sir Cadogan said Draco carried Julie here."

"Yeah, he did, the great ferret, it's a good thing, though."

"She accidentally got dosed with Distancia and Lethe's Bramble. Allergic, I expect."

"I'll _flay_ those boys!"

"Daddy, he never said it was Tim and Tom!"

"It was, though, wasn't it?" Snape gave her a look.

"No, I did it myself, because of act two, scene five, you know?"

"Merlin's earwax, you're getting almost as bad at lying as your mother is. Detention tomorrow at eight to practice it some more."

"Lying, Severus?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "I hardly think that's something a child needs to do often."

"Why don't I teach her, Severus?" Draco offered. "After all, I had practice with the best."

"Take note of this, Julie, that's flattery," Severus agreed, pointing to Draco as Hagrid might to a big manticore. "I think that would be a good move, Draco."

"Honestly!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "Hermione is going to be rather put out with you."

"Not if I'm tutoring her as well," Severus pointed out. "No offense to your mother, Julie, but she's one of the worst liars I've ever met. She can't even say a red pen is green convincingly."

"I know! It's almost funny when she tries to keep a secret from me sometimes."

"Speaking of, where were you when this potion took effect? According to the American, you left with Draco almost three hours ago." Severus raised an eyebrow at his daughter and ex-pupil.

"I wanted to chase down the Weasley boys, but Draco told me not to and we had a pretty terrific fight, and I was just getting tired when they came up and tried to spy on us under Uncle Harry's cloak."

"Much better!" her father observed with a wry smile. "Poppy, can she leave yet?"

"I suppose," Madam Pomfrey conceded wih a look of displeasure at the idea of having her audience taken away. "I don't think she should walk around too much, though. It's only been about forty minutes since we gave her the antidote."

_"Tripe,_ what time is it?" Julie wondered looking at her watch. It read eleven-thirty-one. "Oh, I thought it was much earlier."

"Tired?"

"Not really. I had jaggers with Mitchie before the show."

"Dare I even ask?"

"It's an American thing, sort of like butterbeer except it's really different."

"Yanks," the elder Snape observed ironically.

****************************************** 


	35. Everywhere I GoI Get Slandered

Chapter Thirty-Five: Everywhere I Go...I Get Slandered

"Good morrow, nobles all," Mitchie greeted the next morning at breakfast. Many of the other actors looked like death warmed over after the long and wild cast party, but the Yank seemed as cheerful as a little bird. Tom and Tim looked personally offended by her gleeful alertness.

"And what have you been drinking?" Tom asked her.

"Nothing, actually, I might ask the same of you. Does butterbeer have liquor in it or not?"

Nobody answered her.

"I thought so. It's not my fault you're all hung like a towelrack."

"What?" Tim asked.

"Hung over…y'all jes' sort of look not-awake to me."

"Must be that glorious caffiene we imbibed yesterday night, Mitchie," Julie observed, entering with yet another offensively cheerful smile. "Ah, Weasleys! I take it you slept like guilty little logs?"

"Alright, we're sorry!"

"We meant it well."

"Considering I'm allergic to Lethe's Bramble and I narrowly averted a heart attack, those good intentions are the only thing parting you from my father's wrath. Had Professor Pureblood not gotten all-noble las' night, you would have been eviscerated, parboiled and served to the hippogriffs. Alive."

"What'd they do, Julie?" Mitchie asked.

"We gave her some potion 'cause she had to kiss Pureblood. Talk about a favor gone amiss!" Tim grouched.

"And you took it, Jules? I'm surprised at you!" Both Weasleys gaped in shock at the American. "That glorious slice of manflesh's-"

_"Mitchie, please!"_ Tom looked as if he might at any second bestow his own kidney on the tabletop.

"Does my observation offend?" she inquired, in a ludicrous imitation of the local accent.

"I'm sorry, Mitch, it's just that everyone here considers the professor in question as little better than a common slug. After last night, however, I must promote him to snail, though I fear no Gryffindor will ever harbor anything but dislike for the ferret Slytherin."

Julie loved pretending to be arrogant, as did the American. 

"Oh, old House animosity?" Mitchie looked amused. "La, but you British can be silly. I tend to judge a person based on the content of his character and whther he's a dish or not, depending on which one I encounter first."

Just then, Donaghan walked in, looking reasonably awake and even whistling. 

"Speaking of, there is an example of dishiness." Mitchie had returned to her most dewy-eyed, weak-kneed state. "Why Scotland doesn't invade and annex America, I'll never know."

"'Ello, ladies," Donaghan said in his lovely accent, kissing Mitchie and Julie each on the cheek. "I 'eard about y'r misa'venture with the ferret last night, Jule."

"C'est le petit dommage. It turned out okay."

"Beautifully spoken, Julie," Chloe remarked happily. 

She had been teaching Julie French for quite some time and looked absolutely chipper since being notified she would be going to New Orleans. Julie assumed she would keep the secret from Aldous, and yet the black-haired wizard had not let go of the first-year's hand since the play ended. It was sweet the way he looked after his girlfriend, if a little unnerving becase of their four-year age difference to some, and Julie decided he would keep the secret even if Chloe disobeyed and told him. Donaghan, however, must not find out about the mission from Mitchie. Julie knew his protective nature far too well. The Weasley boys, obviously, must be kept in the dark as well.

The Scot took a seat next to the American after patting Julie in a brotherly manner on the shoulder.

"Las' nigh' was lots of fun, Michelle."

For a moment the Weasleys, Chloe, and Aldous looked around, wondering who Donaghan had spoken to. 

"I liked it, too," Mitchie answered, holding the leather-gloved hand of the Scotwolf under the table. Then she noticed the stares. "Oh, come on, you didn't think I was actually _named_ Mitchie?"

"Did anyone finish that paper on unicorns?" Tim asked.

"Here y' go," Mitchie said absently, tossing him a tightly wound scroll of parchment. "Do we actually get to see some today?"

"Yeah, I think so." Tom said uncertainly. "You can't always convince them to show up on schedule."

As Care of Magical Creatures class drew nearer, the whispering among the Gryffindor fifth-years grew more interesting. It was now common knowledge that only virgins could touch a unicorn, and it seemed that today's class would be providing a lot of …well, definitive proof of things.

Hagrid was grinning as they approached his class, and even the Slytherins looked more intersted than usual.

"I've got brushes fer all of yeh," Hagrid announced, holding out a box. "Yeh want ter' brush their manes an' tails wi'the long-bristled ones, and then some of yeh can curry their coats as well. Unicorns love bein' brushed, y'know."

Eagerly, most of the girls came up and got brushes, and at Hagrid's insistence the guys each accepted one as well. When everyone was suitably equipped, Hagrid led them around to a pen near the hippogriffs'.

Mitchie gasped in awe at the unicorns. There were two large bucks, several does, and even three little fawns, still spotted like baby deer were back home. She wished that she could pet them, but knew she couldn't. Everyone was whispering and glancing at Julie, especially the Slytherins. Mitchie knew about Rita Skeeter's article, and she assumed that the whole 'heir-of-Voldemort' thing was why they were so curious. Nobody was walking forward to brush a unicorn, especially not the guys.

Finally, Lucy Christie, one of Mitchie's fellow Gryffindors, the one who liked word games so much, walked forward and nervously petted the nearest doe. After the ice was broken, several girls began rushing tentatively over to pet and brush them. No guy wanted to, as that would be like admitting to unmanliness, but the little fawns began to sniff and even lick a few of them. Aldous abandoned all pretense and knelt down to pet the littlest fawn, smiling as the creature licked his face and whinnied while he groomed its' mane. Lyff Grudgett came over and watched him do this.

"That little Frenchie isn't good for much, I take it?"

Aldous stood up, anger showing in his eyes.

"What did you say?"

"Well, what's the good of cradle-robbing if you can't even-"

There was a low 'thwack' as Aldous broke Lyfften's nose. As the Slytherin leaned up on his elbows, the biggest buck came over and nuzzled his head. The other Gryffindor boys burst into laughter. Hagrid sent Grudgett off to the hospital wing with Jeremy and Jennifer Blodgett, (neither of whom were petting the unicorns anyway,) and gave Aldous detention for a week. Aldous didn't look as if he minded the punishment, as Professor Hagrid would probably just make him feed various animals, but he did seem in a fair bit of a rage about what the Slytherin had said. The big unicorn, however, sniffed at him, and his temper calmed down, by the looks of things.

Tom and Tim were working on the mane and tail of a little doe, who seemed very flattered by the attention and confused by their pretending to be hairdressers. Lucy and Hannah could be seen shooting them glances, and Mitchie's suspicions about who fancied whom were confirmed in part. She was, of course, still avoiding the quadrupeds.

She stood a little apart from the others, as did Matt Flint and Julie, until the dark-haired Slytherin stepped toward the Gryffindor. The American tried to hear what transpired between the two, but in spite of her sharp ears couldn't discern a thing. Suddenly Julie left Flint in a decided huff, walked over to the second-biggest unicorn, and boldly began to groom its mane and pet it on the nose. The unicorn licked her ear and she giggled, but the Slytherins were all standing dumbfounded. She gave Flint a cheeky little smile and let the unicorn nuzzle her. 

By now there were several people obviously avoiding the unicorns, and Hagrid finally appeared to realize why this was. The poor half-giant was blushing furiously above his beard, and looked very shocked at some of the Slytherins. Mitchie saw the baleful gaze he gave her, and she couldn't do anything but walk towards him to explain it.

"Tha's alright, Mitchie," Hagrid started to say, but she pushed back her sleeve to show him the little star. "Oh, yeh mean yeh're-?"

"Yep. Werewolves shouldn't pet unicorns."

Unfortunately for Mitchie, the entire class had somehow been silent then. Judging by the stares of a few of the Gryffindors, she had just admitted her secret to more than Hagrid, and they all seemed surprised, if not shocked by it. Julie and Aldous, however, left the unicorn to come over and chat with her.

"That's alright," Aldous said in his quiet way. "I have a cousin who's a werewolf, I'm doing my end-of-year project on them. D'you suppose you could explain things to me as well?"

"Uh, okay." Mitchie realized that werewolves were much less than common here, in fact, they were probably feared and disliked as well. Judging by what Donaghan had said to her last night, even...

"When were you...uh, well, y'know-?" Julie struggled to ask.

"Oh, I wasn't." Mitchie showed her the star of the _loup-garou_. "My parents were both werewolves. I was born with it."

"Oh." Aldous looked rather fascinated by this. "I've never met a second-generation werewolf before."

"Well, whatever you want to know, I'll help you out with."

"Oh, a wolf, are you?"Flint drawled, coming up from behind and looking at Mitchie's star. "I was curious, as you are a Gryffindor."

"Flint, I swear, if you bother her," Julie started, hand going to her waist automatically.

"Oh, no, Miss Snape, I was merely curious." Flint was giving Julie a strange look, Mitchie noticed, not precisely fear or awe, but containing both. "I trust that my interest does not offend?"

"Not in this matter," Julie said sternly, removing her hand from her knife's hiding place. "The unicorns are friendly, I suggest you pet one yourself."

"Pardon me if I don't heed your suggestion, miss. Unicorns are not much to my liking."

"Afraid to dirty your pure blood?" Tim Weasley asked suddenly. "Or would a snake who hits girls really even care?"

Mitchie realized a crowd was gathering and pulled down her sleeve. Both Weasleys were advancing on Flint menacingly.

"I trust that Miss Snape, can, if she requires, defend herself."

"Depends from what, beasts or peasants," Hannah Stern observed. 

Class was degenerating into a Gryffindor-Slytherin standoff, and Hagrid numbly suggested everyone get back to the unicorns, which the Weasleys and most Gryffindors did reluctantly. Flint and Julie, however, remained almost crouched at each other's throats. 

"I wonder that such 'horny' beasts as unicorns displease you, Flint," Julie remarked in a lightly acidic tone. "Although such graceful things would probably abhor your type."

"It does not surprise me at all that they like you, Miss Snape, four-footed creatures seem to enjoy your presence."

Mitchie quietly started to walk away. Julie turned on Flint like a fury. 

"If you weren't a student here, I'd slit you from toe to tip." 

"Tip of what?" Flint asked.

Julie flicked him on the nose and Flint caught her by the wrist. The next thing anybody knew, Flint had kissed her and then been smacked so that his lip bled. Immediately, Tom and Tim were there, both to prevent Julie from tearing the Slytherin's face off and to call Flint several very nasty wizard words. Hagrid stepped in just before a fistfight started and bodily picked up Flint and Julie by the robes again.

"I'm takin' the both of yeh to the Headmistress abou' this!"

And with that, the half-giant hauled a kicking and insulting Julie and a sullen Flint up to Professor McGonagall's. Tom and Tim would have set in on the remaining Slytherins, but Lucy and Hannah pulled them off to groom the unicorns a little more. A moment later, Professor Potter appeared to conduct the rest of the class. 

Mitchie still persisted in avoiding the unicorns.

******************************************** 

"Well?" Malfoy asked of the three Granger-Snapes.

"I'm _grounded,"_ Julie replied somewhat dismally.

"For a week," her mother said. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

"Considering your behavior, I think you're getting off fairly light."

"Dad, it's not like I wasn't provoked, y'know."

"Yes, Severus, she was forcibly snogged by a Slytherin!" Draco gave his friend a rather sarcastic smile. "The fact that he's still alive warrants reward for her self-control."

"I wasn't referring to smacking Matius Flint across the face, Draco, it is the fact that Hagrid carried both of them in like a pair of fighting kittens that caused her to be punished."

"Well, _Dad, _it's not like you can say 'alright, Hagrid, you can put me down, now.'"

"Did you _attempt_ to?"

"No, I was trying to get free like anybody would."

"I think that warrents a week's grounding."

"Well, at least it's better than detention every other day. Professor McGonagall didn't even take points off from Gryffindor."

"She wouldn't," Draco and Severus both snorted.

"Oh, come on! She took points off when Tom an' Tim an' I offered her tunafish thinking she was Mrs. Norris in the dark."

"I wonder if she ate the tuna afterward," Draco grinned.

"That depends. Was it canned or in a salad?" Hermione asked.

"Just a can."

"Now if you'd thought to make tuna salad with peas she'd have just eaten it and let you go on your way. No celery, though, she can't abide the stuff."

"Thank you, Mummy, I will notify my partners-in-crime and we will take your advice next time we have need of it. It is so lovely to have aid to mischief from my parents."

"Don't push it, Julia," her father said.

"Well, it's not like it doesn't happen often enough in Slytherin. I mean, Dad sent me an Invisibility Cloak for Christmas in fifth year."

"Your father's tastes were always questionable," Severus observed. "How many times did I take it away from you?"

"At least eight. That time I snuck into your ingredient closet and you locked me in doesn't really count, does it?"

"You locked him in the closet?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, it was really very fortunate it's soundproof, remember August in your seventh year?"

"Daddy!" Julie exclaimed in shock. 

"Yes, Severus, that was really an over-share." Draco and Julie were going furiously red.

"Well, it's not like we did anything but experiment with caddisflies and dragon's blood that entire month."

"Hermione!" Draco exclaimed, covering his ears. "I don't want to hear about that kind of thing!"

"What's so bizarre about caddisflies?" Julie asked.

"When combined with a heat accelerant like dragon's blood, they produce a rather notorious wizard aphrodisiac."

"Don't tell the child that!" Severus cried. 

"Well, it's not like I'll use it for anything," Julie protested. "Unless Tom and Tim really tick me off, there's no real need to give that to anyone."

"Yeah, that Scot you keep as a pet doesn't need any help."

"I'm not dating Donaghan now, Malfoy! He's been with Mitchie since the night she got Sorted."

"I had not heard that. Who dumped whom?"

"We made the mutual decision not to date anymore."

"Oh, well if you're so bloody civilized," Draco mocked, imitating Julie's excess of urbanity. "Why don't you start seeing Flint, then, if he's so bleeding keen on you?"

"I'm sorry, but I like my teeth too much for that."

"By the way, Julie, you are not allowed to date Matt Flint."

"Thanks, Daddy."

"Who was that other Slytherin you were working with in Potions?"

"Alexei? Mum, he's just..._ooky._ He can't even spell my name."

"Yes, 'Starcatcher' usually has that silent 'q,' you know." Draco patted Julie on the head like a little dog.

"I mean 'Julie,' he keeps switching the 'ie' to some weird letter in Bulgarian."

"Maybe you _should_ learn the Cyrillic alphabet. We based a very important code on Bulgarian during the war, Svetlana Krum thought it up."

"Should I write my owls home from the States in code?"

"Probably. You never know what could happen when you're spying, dear." Severus looked a little nervous for a moment at the idea of his daughter joining his ex-profession so young in life. "I would also suggest you learn how to speak a foreign language uncommon to the New Orleans area, like Yiddish or Hindustani."

"I have a little Japanese from the orphanage."

"Well, then, by all means, Julie, brush it up. Another reason why I came to see the lot of you, I got an answer to that owl you suggested, Sev."

"Can she do it?"

"She's flying in tonight, I believe."

"Oh, that's excellent!" Severus looked a little bit relieved.

"Would you care to explain to us two what's going on?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yeah. Julie's going to learn how to be imperious from my mother," Malfoy replied. "She seems quite interested in training the Dark Lady."

*************************************************** 

"What do you think, guys?" Julie asked Chloe and Mitchie in her room that night. "I can't very well just show up in my school stuff, right?"

"I would say your dress robes, the green ones," Chloe suggested. "Old pureblood families are posh beyond belief, you know."

"Well, what would you say I wear to meet your mum?"

"You don't own anything elegant enough."

"Right."

"I think you should borrow my little black number," Mitchie offered. "You're supposed to be the freakin' Dark Lady, not a nervous little Brit meetin' 'er boyfriend's mom! Appear in character...d'you know who Madonna is?"

"Uh, I'm Protestant- oh, yeah, sure. I remember her."

"Okay. If you want to be the Dark Lady, I suggest you try to look like Madonna meets the Queen meets Tallulah Bankhead, y'know?"

"Who on earth's Tallulah Bankhead?" Chloe asked.

"Alright, ...Coco Chanel."

"Now her I understand," the French girl agreed.

"Guys, I don't think I can really do that yet. I mean, it's Narcissa Malfoy, for cripes sake! She's a celebrity and a half around here, it's scary, y'know?"

"And I s'pose the whole liking her son thing never even factors into it?"

"Mitch, that's the worst part! I have no idea how to keep from being obvious!"

"Like I told you, show up in character. She's probably going to want to start work immediately. I'll be right back."

Seconds later the American returned with the slinkiest, most disturbing garment Julie had ever seen. It was a little like the wizards' equivalent of the 'little black dress,' except that there was a lot more cloth and it seemed like dress robes only much tighter in places.

"You're about my size, try this on. I think it'll work."

Ten minutes later had Julie completely transformed from the neck down.

_"C'est magnifique," _Chloe observed with a look of awe. Mitchie shrugged as if this were a common thing.

"She needs makeup."

"I agree. Julie, hold still _une petit moment."_ Chloe then pulled out all the stops in wizarding cosmetic transformation. For eleven, she knew more about makeup and hairstyles than either the Brit or the American, and within ten minutes Julie was barely recognizeable.

The convenient white streak was now balanced by somewhat outrageous eyeshadow, and Julie's eyebrows had been groomed into better shape. Having never owned more than the most basic makeup necessities, Julie wasn't sure exactly what Chloe'd done, but she was betting that at least part of it was done with that wand of hers. 

The only comparison Mitchie could think of to start involved the female villian in a Disney movie she'd seen when she was six years old. She wasn't sure that Chloe and Julie had ever seen 'Sleeping Beauty,' though.

"I swear, _petit chat, _this is art wreaked on the Brit, y'know!"

"Extempore from my mother wit, literally," Chloe replied demurely. 

"Alright, now I know why you wanted to go with us." Julie gazed in shock at her reflection. "Are you booked before the ball Christmas Eve?"

"If you think this is good, wait 'til you see what my mother can do."

"You French," Mitchie observed in awe. "All I ever learned about makeup was 'don't put blush below the bottom of your nose'."

"Okay, that takes care of my looks, then. Just one more little teensy-tiny detail."

"An' what's that, Julie?"

"How the hell am I to keep from spontaneous combustion in her presence, then?"

"I think it's time to break out the jaggers, Jule." Mitchie pulled out her wand and Summoned a three-liter bottle of thorn soda. Chloe pulled three champagne goblets out of noplace as well. "Meeting Madame Malfoy is not something a girl should do decaf."

************************************************************ 

"Julie, you look...great."

Severus glared at Draco from the corner in which he was standing.

"Kindly reattach your jaw and stop staring, Draco. That's my daughter you're ogling."

"That definitely wasn't an 'ogle,' Dad, I think that was a 'gaze of profound shock'."

"And rightly deserved!" Uncle Ron said in surprise. "Who did this?"

"Chloe."

"Then why wasn't she on m makeup crew?" Judy asked a bit petulantly. "I'm going to put her in charge next time, first-year or not. This is incredible."

"If a little ostentatious," her father observed in his ironic way. "I do hope this isn't your idea of what Voldemort should look like."

"I never said this was how I thought Voldemort should look. This is how the Dark Lady looks, because _I_ say so."

"Perfect," a voice announced. "Just the key."

"Er, Julie," Draco started. "This is my mum."

Narcissa Malfoy looked like what would happen if Grace Kelly suddenly became the owner of the free world entire. Despite all the skill America and France had contributed to her makeover, Julie still felt like a rake-ribbed, knock-kneed Cockney street rat in her presence.

"It's...really a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Julie stuttered with a proper curtsey, praying that her voice wouldn't squeak too much. Being a Snape did you absolutely no good if you were fifteen and terrified. Somehow she was going to sound like a mouse.

"No. Never greet visitors. Raise your eyebrow and scan them as if they were all clods of dirt. When they have bowed to you, you nod. Not bow, nod. Unless they are anything less than exactly what you ordered, in which case you inhale through your nose. Never smile when someone enters unless they happen to be carrying the bleeding severed head of your enemy. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Julie responded, perfectly terrified.

"No, it isn't 'yes.' It is 'all _right_ then.' You are never satisfied. And there is no title worth mentioning save your own. Should the King of England walk in, you say 'hi, Chuckie.' Never look surprised or open your eyes any wider than when you're half-asleep. You are bored always. Is this clear?"

"All _right_ then," Julie answered lazily, glancing away.

"Better. Where on earth are your bodyguards?"

"The tallish redhead and the blond to your left are them."

"No. Your answer to any inquiry regarding your own safety is never the truth. Nor do you ever admit you even require bodyguards. Now where on earth are they?"

"All eleven, right here," Julie replied, flexing her fingers and twirling her wand between the first three on her left. 

"Good. I understand you're Severus and Hermione's little girl."

"Mm-hm." Narcissa raised an eyebrow and Julie tried again. "_Pardon_ me, 'little'?"

"Good. I think that's enough lessons for right now." Suddenly the icy look melted into the sweet grin her son had inherited and Julie relaxed just a bit. "I think you'll do well as a Dark Lady." The regal blonde moved toward the other adults present. "She has your tricks, Severus, and has nearly perfected them."

"And which tricks _are_ those, Narcissa?" Snape asked, kissing the hand of the Slytherin queen in an accustomed way.

"Power. She exudes it from every pore. And when did you teach her your delivery?"

"That, I fear, is as inherent to we Snapes as the notorious stare of ice is to you Armfeldts. Your boy here has been useful in imparting that."

"Has he behaved well? I had the impression from his letter that our two progeny are on –let us say, not the best of terms?"

"You heard of the dramatic event yesterday night?"

"Of course."

"Casting for the comedic leads was in a word, ideal. Almost too close for comfort, if you take my meaning."

"I sincerely doubt anyone possessed of such good wit as her parents would be drawn to someone with as poor a sense of societal necessity as his father."

"Indeed, Narcissa, it is from thence that most of their best clashes emerge. You have doubtless been informed of my daughter's unfortunate upbringing?"

"I have. And forgive me for saying so, Severus, but I suspect that may prove helpful in this new venture."

"For the Dark Lady, yes, but it would look ill if she unceremoniously murdered her patrician bodyguard."

"Dear Severus, no!" Narcissa smiled an airy laugh. "That would be in perfect character."

"Mother, surely you aren't saying I'm as bad a pureblood as the students would have some believe?" Malfoy asked almost petulantly.

"No, Draco, I don't think anyone could estimate the depth of your snobbery. However, considering the unfortunate circumstances of your youth at home, I fear I can only blame myself for not controlling your father more. This is not seemly; we can discuss it another time."

The slight creaking of a door broke the heavy silence. It turned out to be Hermione surreptitiously entering.

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," she greeted as nervously as her daughter had.

"For Merlin's sake, can't you learn to call me 'Narcissa' yet?" the great lady asked, moving quickly to shake the professor's hand. "I've just seen your daughter's capabilities; wonderfully like you and her father have. She has your eyes. Tell me, how are you and Sevvie doing lately?"

_'Sevvie?'_ Julie thought. She was getting the odd impression that Narcissa Malfoy considered herself her father's 'big sister.' The complicated relationships of the wizarding society were starting to make her mind boggle. She could also tell that her mother hadn't quite gotten used to the patrician blonde.

"Oh, quite well, really. Thank you for asking."

"I've been hearing such wonderful things about your research this year, as well as your daughter ...and the semi-scandal at Halloween. Pardon my language, but isn't Rita Skeeter a _flaming_ bitch?"

That was it. Narcissa Malfoy had won over the female Granger-Snapes. The only person not laughing hysterically was Hagrid's pet rat, Squidgy. In his cage, the creature trembled.

"Well, let's not stand around in the entrance hall all evening," Severus announced. "Though I must say, that was quite the suitable word in her case."

************************************************* 

Still giggling a bit from what had transpired at dinnertime, Julie began to scratch out an account of the evening in her journal. It was geniunely bizarre how Mrs. Malfoy could consider her mum an absolute equal and Draco an inhabitant of the 'kids' table,' but Julie was chalking that up to her parents being at least fourteen years apart. Even more curious, however, was the way she had been treated through the course of the evening. Every member of the 'mission' had been present, as well as their spouses or fiancees and the Headmistress, as well as Hagrid, who was there to discuss with Narcissa, Draco and Uncle Ron the possibilities for the Dark Lady's familiar. It had been decided, of course, that Nagaina, Draco's pet, would do quite nicely, especially as Julie's Parseltongue would draw a resemblance to Nagini, the infamous familiar of Voldemort. This had been Julie's suggestion, which Narcissa praised and decided would be for the best.

Chloe and Mitchie had arrived in the Great Hall shortly after the party of others did, as members of the mission, and Julie doubted if they would have said three words to anyone but her had not Narcissa purposely included them in conversation. It was as if Draco's mother had done research to know just the right questions to ask and the right things to say; inquiring after Chloe's parents at their winter home in France and pressing Mitchie for details about her hometown. Indeed, her interest in Mitchie had been the surprise of the evening, as Mrs. Malfoy knew a lot about the now-deceased Tylers, who had been international spies as well. It seemed that Mitchie's parents had come over to England after the fall of Voldemort and aided in the detection of refugee Death Eaters. Narcissa related her brief acquaintance with Mitchie's mother and father at the table, who sounded like the kind of inseparables Julie's own parents were. It was obvious from the way her new friend had acted that she had not been told very many good things about her parents, in fact, judging from the way she kept her star covered self-consciously since Hagrid's class with the unicorns, it was likely that wizard orphans had considered her second-class because of her lycanthropy. Narcissa Malfoy had made it sound like she was personally pleased to have the daughter of John and Cassandra Tyler going with her son, just as much as she made Chloe and Julie feel like needed scions in this grave mission.

The other surprise had been the queenly lady's vast humor. Julie supposed that being married to Draco's father had sort of made that a requirement, but even she was unprepared for the unabashed 'bashing' of every undesirable factor from Rita Skeeter to Santa Anna de Diablo. As if that hadn't been bad enough, the sacred cows of wizarding Britain had one by one been mercilessly milked, starting with a heated condemnation of the subservience of house-elves. Julie was sure at that point that Mrs. Malfoy had pre-researched this, as house-elf liberation was one of her mother's pet projects.

"Honestly, I keep expecting Tibby to offer me his own arm cooked buffalo-style someday. I've been trying to pay him since Lucius passed away, but the poor dear's still afraid of his own shadow."

"I think that house-elves should be made literate," Hermione had offered, to which suggestion Narcissa nodded whole-heartedly.

"Most decidedly. And if they don't grasp why, then they can be told that we require stenographers and bookkeepers. They'll be overjoyed."

"And then you give them books like Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau to read."

"Precisely."

"Are y' sure y' aren't American, Mrs. Snape?" Mitchie had asked in her Pittsburgh twang, causing the entire table to crack up like a Muggle crisp. 

Yes, it had been a very nice evening, even if Julie considered the sheer terror Narcissa's conversation with her dad had been. Merlin, if they only knew! It was so dead frightening there for one second Julie was certain the considerate floor would swallow her whole right then. But it had not and Miss Parkington –Aunt Judy's slightly age-innapropriate casting had been shrugged off after she and Draco had a couple of very small arguments. True, considering Malfoy had just played half of a couple who had literally argued themselves into loving one another, it had not done much to get rid of her father's Draco-pointed glares. But then, she wasn't the one getting glared at now. So there! It was about time she got a vacation from those threatening looks. 

Just as she was finishing a fairly funny anecdote from the private feast, Julie heard a little 'scritching' sound from her ferret's cage. She put down her pen to go and pick up her date.

Literally.

She petted Draco behind the ears and placed him on the floor. He instantly blurred back into the blond man in evening dress. But his expression was worried.

"I found this in the Slytherin common room."

It was a printed semi-tabloid newsletter, authored by Lyff Grudgett and the Blodgett twins. The biggest headline was 'Julie Voldemort Assaults Matius Flint.'

"I could kill them."

"I'll do better. Act like you don't know." Draco gave Julie a devious smile and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Mum was quite impressed by you, Julie-girl."

************************************************************** 

A/N: I'm sorry these past two chapters took so long, but my 'net was down for a week and I wound up having to split one into two while I waited to upload this past few days. By the way, there's an in-joke buried in this chapter...has to do with the Yank and why she's called what she is...forty house-points if you get it, I'll explain everything next chapter.

Brain surgery in a few days...la, what fun. I'm going to write non-stop to keep my mind off of things. It's helpful. I've also started getting these wonderful emails in addition to just reviews, one just to hope I get better soon. My seizures are now pretty much controlled, and the surgery should have my vision back to rights again. (Though I've worn glasses ever since I was three, 'rights' still isn't exactly perfect twenties now.) If anybody has any really good ideas (like Aemos, who's just fixed a great hole I had in my plot outline,) please let me know. I've only got the skeleton of the story, it needs some fattening up.

Will post again as soon as possible.

-J. McN.


	36. Narrow Streets of Cobblestone

Chapter Thirty-Six: Narrow Streets of Cobblestone

"Alright, listen, girls, I want you to be very careful! No backflips while you fly, no talking to strange Muggles, and no crossing roadways without looking! Severus will have my head if anything happens to you."

"Yes, Bosley," Mitchie mumbled, convulsing Chloe and Julie in seconds. Poor Uncle Ron didn't understand the joke.

"Uh, you can call me Ron, Mitchie, and it's Weasley-"

"I know, it was a joke, y'know, you're being so nervous-like..."

"Oh, I get it now!" Ron cracked up almost a minute after the two girls did. "And Chloe as Farrah, that's hysterical."

Ten minutes later all Three Witches were on their brooms.

"Look, I absolutely _need_ to do a corkscrew. It's a moral imperative." Mitchie executed the stunt and went on her way. "That wasn't a backflip, though, so it's okay."

"I think it's starting to snow," Chloe observed.

_"Snow!"_

And with that, the giddy Yank executed a wild series of carefree little stunts (including no less than three _quadruple_ backflips,) all the while catching snowflakes on her tongue like a peculiar game of Edible Quidditch. Julie and Chloe watched this madness continue for almost two minutes before Mitchie finally recovered her senses somewhat.

"This British snow is wonderful! Aren't you going to play a bit?"

"No, watching you was rather an amusement in itself," Julie replied, stifling a lot of mirth.

"You Euros can be so positively stiff sometimes. Eat a snowflake, it hasn't got any calories."

"If I really must," Chloe responded to the challenge, sticking out her tongue and getting a fluffy one. "I fail to see how this amuses you."

"I jus' like snow, tha's all. Maybe we can build an igloo if we get enough."

"And a big snow bunny with ears as tall as Hagrid is!" Julie cried gleefully. "I bet if we got some food color from the house-elves, we could even make a purple one."

"A snow bunny?" Mitchie asked. "I'd never considered that. I made a Snoopy once with a little Woodstock next to him, that was pretty cool. We don't get all that much snow in Pittsburgh."

"You're both mad. One Christmas my cousins made an entire creche out of snow, complete with sheep and goats."

"Speaking of, what sort of cribs do wizard babies use?" Julie asked. The other girls looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Y'know, Jules, whenever I make horny bunny jokes, I didn't think it applied to ferrets and their girlfriends."

"Merlin's ears, no! That's not why!" Julie looked perfectly scandalized. "I'm not even into that yet, thank you very much!"

"Well, then why the interest in baby cribs?" Chloe asked.

It occured to Julie that aside from her parents, Madam Pomfrey, the Headmistress and Minister Dumbledore, nobody knew about her incipient sibling yet. Cripes, what a blunder and three-quarters!

"We kept them in sort of plastic boxes at the orphanage, an' I sort of wondered what wizards use. I was a baby once upon a time, y'know."

"When knighthood was in flower," Chloe remarked. "Rub it in, why don't you, I'm only twelve years old!"

Her birthday had been December fourteenth, about a week ago. They were now heading out to Muggle London to Christmas-shop and, as it had been decided without the knowledge of Uncle Ron, to visit a few of Julie's Broughton friends and get a decent stock of contraband Cherry Coke. There was almost no way to get thorn soda in the UK, and poor Mitchie couldn't wake up without a caffiene fix. Actually, Chloe and Julie planned to use the Muggle Internet in the library to get to a certain wizard-encoded international sales site Madam Rosmerta had tipped them off to and owl-order a sizeable quantity of jaggers from America. The problem was how to temporarily ditch the Yank.

Somehow the three girls, all-British, Irish-American and English-French had all become inseparable over the past month. The Weasley boys, ever the humorists, drew a political cartoon of them crouched over a cauldron marked 'Thorn Soda' and left it on a table in the common room. Despite being referred to by everyone as the 'Three Witches' after this, the girls found it at least marginally funny and Mitchie went so far as to frame the thing and hang it on her bedroom door. A second cartoon depicting Tom and Tim as Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum appeared, but the style of drawing was really much different.

As to the plans for the mission, all of the costumes had been finalized. Julie planned to have Uncle Ron and Draco in spiked collars like Claw the boarhound wore, and Chloe's veela gowns had been designed by Madame Delacour-Davies. (Actually, those sort of ticked Julie off, as the enchantments made even 'her Draco' stare.) Mitchie seemed unconcerned with what she wore, almost dangerously so until she pointed out to the others that only dark robes and a collar would be necessary. According to the lunar chart, she would most likely be meeting de Diablo as 'Mitch the Wolf.' Neither of the three was really scared of Santa Anna de Diablo yet. They simply didn't know anything about this threat. And only Chloe could consistently pronounce his name. Mitch still referred to him as 'day-Dyablo' with typical American bad Spanish.

In fact, most of the clashes between her and Chloe stemmed from the fact that the French girl was extraordinarily polished in her dialect and Mitchie could sometimes barely be understood. Americans did not generally get along well with the French and vice-versa, except for the ever-more-obvious fact that Mitchie did not like her native land. She considered herself more of an ethnically Irish-German Pittsburgher than any kind of American. Julie was guessing this was because of the time the Yank had spent in an orphanage, but there was probably a little bit of quasi-anarchy there as well. For as much as Mitchie seemed to like Headmistress McGonagall, she seemed to take an awful lot of joy in breaking the rules she made. Chloe did not like that much, either.

"Say, where is it exactly we're goin' to?" the Yank inquired.

"Cobham, naturally," Julie replied. "Goin' ter see all me pals from down the 'cade in there."

"Tell me that's not the local accent here!" Chloe protested in horror.

"No, not really. I don't talk like that."

"Yeah, tha'd just be ridiculous," Mitchie agreed in the twangiest, most steel-string Pittsburgh accent they had ever heard. Chloe actually cringed. "Y'okay, _petit chat?"_

"How do you stand sounding so –sloppy?"

Mitchie drew a small potion vial out of her pocket and squiffed it down, sticking her tongue out afterward to indicate how bad it was. True, the empty vial had smoke coming out of it.

"Look, it's English, just the 'Merican variety. I'm sort of homesick, so it's gon' ta be thick today. If worse comes to it, just read my subtitles."

"Subtitles? What are those?"

"Aw, nevermind. S'a joke, like when there's words along the bottom of a movie screen tellin' you what the characters're sayin'."

"I hate to say this, Mitch, but you're a loony."

"Boldly spoken, Julie. John Cleese himself coudn't have said it better."

"Speakin' of, Chloe, have you ever seen him do the French Taunter?"

_"Mais oui!_ 'Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person! Your muzzer was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries!'"

"Thank you, _petit chat._ It's wonderful when a real French person says that line."

"My pleasure, _mais americain ami._ The 'Lumberjack Song' is ever so much funnier in French."

"Is it? Would you teach us the lyrics in thy native tongue, Mademoiselle Davies?"

Julie stifled a burst of laughter as she watched her two friends get along beautifully. It was nice to have a pair of good close female friends, for as fun as the Weasley boys were, it was bloody impossible to chat about guys and clothes and girly stuff with them. Her mother had pointed this out a little while ago, and Julie figured she knew what she was talking about. It was also a little funny to notice how Mitchie's sense of the bizarre mimicked Uncle Ron's, and Chloe's calm expertise seemed like Professor Mum. Julie had been prepared for Dumbledore's comparing her to her 'uncle,' but when things like this began to pile up, it was really quite unnerving, if not hilarious. She even had the scar and the Parseltongue.

'Cripes,' she thought dismally as her friends began to sing _en francais_ as they flew along, 'I wonder how many of us Voldemort created all in all?'

But that was the kind of deep philosophical thinking that she and Draco would consider for two seconds and then laugh at. She thought of how he'd just smile and reassure her and felt much better. A second later she joined Chloe and Mitchie in the singing of Monty Python tunes in French; not a bad hobby, but one that seemed to be distressing the pigeons a bit.

_'Moi vie c'est beau,'_ she decided.

**************************************************************** 

"Hagrid, why must you insist on bringing that pestilential beast around?" Hermione asked, shrinking back toward her desk at the sight of Squidgy in his carry-cage. "I know you love your pets, but really, it's a bloody _rat."_

"I'm sorry, 'Ermione," the half-giant apologized. "I was just wonderin' if yeh could make Squidge some kind of a restorin' draf,' 'e's got awful arthritis and 'e's missin' part of 'is ear."

"I'm not much up on animal potions, maybe Sev-"

"Hagrid, I suggest you take that beast to Eeylops and sell it as owl food, it'd be a damned sight more humane than what _I _can think of." Severus leaned against the doorjamb, glaring at the pet. "Has anyone checked that it is not an Animagus yet? I'm certain you remember what can come of rats."

"Squidgy? _Naw, _he's such a weak little fella, he couldn' do nobody any much harm, Sev'rus."

"I heard from the Scot that the beast was caught in Julie's room. Now what McPhersen was doing there I'm still wondering, but the fact remains that Peter Pettigrew was still at large." The dark-haired professor turned to his friend and seemed to relax just a little bit. "Hagrid, I of all people know how you love your pets. You can imagine, therefore, a little of what having a child feels like."

Hagrid looked decidingly at the rat, biting his lip and then looking right back to Severus. Wormtail felt more frightened than he had in the presence of Voldemort. Surely the kind gamekeeper wouldn't turn him over to a dangerous avenger like Severus Snape! 

It occured to Wormtail that he was suddenly more afraid of Snape than of Voldemort. A cold pain began to burn in his chest, and then his shoulders, and his two front legs.

"Hagrid, as a favor, please just let me find out about this rat." Severus held out both hands to carefully accept the cage. And Hagrid relented.

"Be careful wif' 'im, Sev...Squidgy! He's fallen over!"

Indeed the rat had gone unconscious, paw to chest in a universal gesture that did not extend to rodentkind. Hastily, Severus drew his wand and pointed it at the unconscious beast.

_"Revalus Animagus!"_ he shouted, throwing the glass cage to the ground, shattering it just as the form of Peter Pettigrew appeared, in cardiac arrest. "Hermione, get Poppy and owl to Dumbledore! _Hurry!"_

********************************************************************* 

A small choir of children in neat gray school uniforms was caroling on the steps of the library. Several similarly clad boys of about Donaghan's age were scraping and salting the walks nearby. The dark-haired Muggle in the red-and-green tartan coat looked at the school identification patches above every caroler's heart; they read 'Dennon School.' Her blond friend in the fitted designer jacket with the fur trim smiled as the began 'Joyeux Noel,' and the auburn-haired, bespectacled one in the Army surplus coat spattered with vintage rock patches merely grinned and tapped the black-haired girl on the shoulder.

"Old classmates?"

"Yeah, 'scept I don't know this lot. See that brick over there?" Julie pointed to a large building quite a way down Dennon Street. 

"That's it?"

"That's the main hall of Broughton Orphanage."

_"Excuse me," _one of the shovelers protested in an over-polished accent much like Julie's own. "If you're here to make fun of the orphans, I _suggest_ you don't do it around all these little'uns."

There was a pause as Mitchie almost moved to protect her friend, whilst Julie looked at the boy with a shocked countenance.

"Merridew, you bastard."

"It is _not!"_ the boy exclaimed in wonder and surprise. "Dame Julie herself come to slum it now she's changed 'er dorm. Tell me, how big are those fat rats in Abercroft?"

"I wouldn't know, Jacky, I live elsewhere now."

"Meadow or Denningford, you surely aren't in juvie yet?"

_"Nein, danke,_ I live with my parents now."

"Crikey, who'd adopt Little Gavroche 'ere?"Jacky reached over and clasped Julie in a friendly hug. "You've got taller since y'left, Crazy Starcatcher."

"My father's tall. They didn't adopt me, y'know."

"They are _not!"_ Merridew picked his old friend up and swung her around in a swing-dance style. "Y'mean you've really found your parents and they wanted y'?"

"Impossible but true. My real las' name's 'Snape.'"

"So you have cousins?" Jacky asked, indicating the Yank and Frenchie.

"Naw, these are school friends, though you could put 'em cousin-ward. This is Chloe Madeleine Delacour-Davies and this is Michelle Isolde Tyler, we call the Yank 'Mitchie.' Witches, this is John Howard Merridew, otherwise known as Jack the Ripper at Denningford. Just don't turn your back on him an' everything'll go down smooth."

"Mademoiselle, lassie," Jack greeted both girls with the proper nationality. He was a tallish, lanky type with a querulous smile and terrifically disarming eyes. There was something about him that positively sang out 'criminal,' like the air Julie had sometimes, and boyish freckles augmented his redheaded charm.

"It's nice to meet you. Have you and Julie been friends long?"

Trust Chloe to be proper at all moments.

"Well, we detested each other for 'bout ten months, then y'might say we turned friendly under Queen Judy."

"We did a play together and became friends during rehearsals."

"Aw, Jules, give me a wee speck of credit there!"

"Alright, I was twelve, he was fourteen, we were cast opposite each other in 'Guys And Dolls.' 'Zhat enough credit?"

"You're leaving out the lessons!" Jack wheedled.

"For good reason, I've been applying your tutelage." Julie turned as if to speak to her friends a bit, only to be caught by the shoulder and spun around on the ice.

"To whom? Have you picked up a new housepet, Jules?"

"Tell me you're big-brotherin' and not jealous," Mitchie remarked with a laconic grin.

"Why? Is she bangin' a psycho now?"

Julie smacked him gently upside the head.

"I'm not now nor have I ever nor do I ever intend to bang anyone. It's icky."

"Well, a thankful child-care industry prays to keep you still in that mind, Julie. So dish, what's your ol' man like?"

"As frightening as she is," Chloe said with a smile. "Cynical, eccentric and biased; what more could a daughter want?"

"Stuff it, Emma," Julie warned.

"Her mum's lovely, though. D'you know both her 'rents are teachers at the school she 'tends?" Mitchie was giggling at the Emma Bunton reference. "Can I be Ginger if she's Emma?"

"Damned Americans."

"This is fascinatin,' Julie, give us more details."

"Why don't you tell me what's been on here at the orphanage?"

"Well, Miss Parkington's left to marry a fellow red-headed Romeo, not a bad sod if you don't mind he's a bit psycho and never heard of good Sir Arthur C.D., y'know."

"I knew that. How's the Crystal Ward?"

"Bad as always, Jule. None goin' so fast as- well, not many bad, but there's a girl in there who's snapped her leg like -you know- used to do."

"Jack, you can say his name. I don't want it forgotten or misplaced ever."

"He loved you, Jules, y'know that?"

"I had hoped he did."

"So, d'you 'ave any biological sibs like him?"

"Not at the moment, no." Julie raised an eyebrow to indicate to Jack and not the girls that this was a temporary state. He returned the raise with a wink and a half-smile. "And your love life?"

"Been seein' Rosaline for eight months now."

"Vet'ran cosmic!"

"Damn your weird slang and your show-off books!" Jack was smiling broadly, gald that his girlfriend met the approval of Starcatcher. "So what are you playin' checkers with in the school library?"

"Just because that's all _we_ ever did!" Jack gave her an eyebrow that seemed to rise off his head. "Alright, besides my education, then. He's blond and glorious, that's all I'm going to say to you."

"Education?" Chloe asked.

"Just kissing. Still in practice, right?"

"Spoken for, old Ripper." Julie kissed Jack on the cheek. "The mess of us'd best get our errands done before the snow gets worse. I think you're pushin' a thankless plow."

"Hey, for five quid an hour, let it snow 'til your birthday, Jules! Deus dona-"

"Nobis pacem," Julie capped the phrase. "I'll see you later, git."

"In a while, shrew. Mademoiselle Chloe, Mitchie m'lass, it has been a joy to meet two such strong-willed ladies who can put up with Crazy Starcatcher."

"S'nice t'meet y'too," Mitchie shook his hand.

"Thank you for the tidbit," Chloe observed with an overly mischievous pixy grin.

"Hey, don't believe what she tells you about me, ladies!" Jack returned to his shoveling as they walked off. "The teacher's car was totally her idea!"

"I don't believe that," Chloe observed as the girls walked on. "I suppose the phrase 'connect-the-dots' never occured to you?"

"Nonsense, that was one of the best things Jack's good for, Chlo'. If his conversation lagged, I just drew constellations on his face."

"That wasn't what I was talking about."

"Afraid of that."

"So, on a scale of one to ten?" Mitchie inquired.

"Scale on-?"

"Kissing the Lord of the Flies back there."

"Oh, a six-point-two. He has a harelip scar on the inside that's kinda neat."

"Hmm. I'd have to give Aldous a nine-point-eight. And that's not even bothering with lack of comparison."

"Arse over teakettle,_ petit chat._ You can't avoid it any more than you can potholes or the snowflakes here."

"What's your opinion of Donaghan, Mitchie?"

"Are you really okay with me saying this?"

"Sure. He's been replaced in my closet, y'know."

The Yank smiled sheepishly and bit her lip.

"A perfect ten. I'm scared, though. Wolves mate for life, did you know that, guys? Made dating a bite and a half back home."

"Aww!" Julie smiled. "I'm glad you came along when you did, Mitchie. He's still a pretty good friend of mine and it was hurting to see him alone while I was off with my darling pet ferret."

"Speaking of-?"

"Nine-point-seven. Really perfect teeth."

"I suspected that. He is a nice dish, Julie."

"I think you two would make a perfect couple if not for the obvious fact that he's old enough to be your dad."

"Chloe, didn't you ever read de Maupassant or Gaston Leroux?" Mitchie asked.

"No, Mitchie, but I have read Franklin and Fizgerald."

"Well, those damn Yanks don' know a thing about relationships. If you want to talk about love, you need French people, or at the very least Italians. I think Professor Malfoy's cute with our Julie. And after all, gifted women crave the attentions of intelligent older men. D'you honestly think she'd be satisfied with Tom an' Tim?"

"Thanks, Mitch," Julie observed a bit sarcastically. "I needed that _menage a'trois_ in my mind."

Chloe gave Mitchie a jokingly accusing glare.

"No more French lessons for you, smutbunny. I should never have let you see the dictionary."

"Sorry, _chat_."

"And besides, Tim and Tom fancy Hannah and Lucy now."

"Oh, you've noticed that?" the Frenchie asked the Brit rather cynically. "You're really having one of your swift days today, aren't you?"

"Hey, I've been just a bit occupied."

"Zhe question ees, by what?" Mitchie inquired in a ludicrous imitation of Hercule Poirot. 

"Well, it's not like we're shagging, 'cause I don't do that."

"Don't, can't or haven't yet?" Chloe asked.

The Brit sighed as they walked into the vintage clothing store.

"Mostly latter two. He doesn't want to hurt me, whatever that's supposed to mean."

"Aww!" Mitchie said. "He thinks your dad'll kill him if y'get knocked up."

"Can you keep a secret, Wolfy?"

"If I must."

"I _can't."_

"Did your mum put you on the pill or somethin', smutbunny?"

"No, it's just that Hogwarts has an anticeptive charm on it."

"Vet'ran cosmic!"

"Julie, why'd you have to tell her that?"

"I d'know, mischief."

"That or she's still real good friends with Donaghan."

"You are this close to sounding like a slut, Mitchie," Chloe informed her, holding her fingers about a half-an-inch apart. "I'm beginning to regret helping you guys out in that Revolution you had against the Brits."

"Well, it's not like we didn't help you out with those Nazis and Fascists a couple of times, y'know."

"You only did it because we make the best champagne and cheese."

"Well, you only helped us out to tick off the Brits."

"Both of you! What do you think of this hat?"

"For whom?"

"D'know, you?" Julie placed the fedora on the French girl's head. "And this looks like you, Mitchie." The Yank was unceremoniously crowned with a leather Aussie slouch hat then.

"It needs a feather," Mitchie decided, checking her reflection out. "What about this one for you, Julie?"

The item in question was a black satin top hat with rhinestones sparkling on the band. Chloe cracked up entirely when she saw it.

"'The French are glad to die for love...'"

"Oh, no, Mitchie, you're dating the Scot right now."

"Can he sing? I kind of wondered."

"Aw, Yank, he's glorious."

"He does kind of remind you of Ewan McGregor, then, doesn't he?" Mitchie switched the Aussie hat for the 'Moulin Rouge' one and began to giggle surreptitiously. "Cripe, this looks funny on me."

Chloe suddenly had a flash of inspiration looking at the hat.

"Why don't you ask your Aunt Judy to do 'Moulin Rouge' as our next musical?"

"Chloe! You're a genius!" Julie exclaimed. "I wonder if I could be 'Nini Legs-In-The-Air'?"

_"You guys!"_ Mitchie protested. "That could be awful!"

"You're only saying that because you'd get the lead, Mitchie. Naw, Jules, you're still too nice."

"I can do evil, though."

"I don't want to think about this now!"

"Who would be Zidler? 'Fessor Neville?"

"He could do it, yeah."

"Guys, please, this is just not a good idea!"

"Do you think your dad could be The Duke?"

"Draco'd do a better job."

"Julia Snape!" the Yank exclaimed in shock.

"Oh, Mitchie, stop protesting. We're just playing around."

"Yeah, there's no way Miss Parkington would let us do that show at school."

"You're a witch, how did you even see that, Chloe?"

"Field trip."

"I took she and Tom and Tim after we won our second Quidditch match."

"They still show it?"

"At the art house down the road a bit, they have 'midnight madness,' yeah."

"Merlin's hangnails! You took an eleven-year-old out to that?"

"It was glorious," Chloe remarked.

"I thought you'd think so, you!"

"Well, how'd you see it?"

"They run it on Muggle cable on Baz Luhrmann's birthday every year. My foster folks like art films and musicals."

"So they're Muggles?"

"Well, the guy is, but the chick's a witch. I didn't like 'em much, they didn't let me read books from the adult section of the library."

"And you're on about me seeing 'Moulin Rouge.'"

"I mean the section where they keep books like 'Les Miserables' and 'Silas Marner,' _chat._"

"You say 'didn't,' you're not planning on going back?"

"That's why I came, actually. Your Minister Dumbledore's giving me English wizarding citizenship until I turn eighteen in exchange for my help on the mission, see? I don't really care for my foster parents much."

"Why not just emigrate and be English forever, Mitch?"

"Because I still love Pittsburgh. It's my home, y'know. You're a witch, but you still come visit Dennon Street. You can't really sever yourself from a place you love." For a moment the Yank was quiet and shut her eyes to keep from crying with homesickness. "But I am loving England. It's marvelous here."

"Where else could you find such hideous clothes?" Chloe inquired jokingly, holding up a black leather vest. "It's got _no_ form and _no_ lines whatsoever. Talk about the English stiffness!"

"Say!" Julie looked at the vest with a mischievous smile. "That might not make an awful bad coat, you know." She picked up another garment from the leather rack, a jacket with a nasty burn down the front. "These sleeves sewn to this vest, take in these seams...we'd have ourselves a lovely thing."

As she said this, Julie pulled the burned coat on and put the vest on top of it, holding the seams to indicate where she would alter the main central lines.

"Slight problem, Jules, there's no way that'll fit any of us." Mitchie indicated the sleeves that almost entirely hid her English friend's hands.

"It'd fit Donaghan."

"Would he like this?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"Well, Yank, you're the one dating him," Chloe said.

"I kind of think black makes him look a bit too...he needs color, y'know? Now if you added detail stitching to the vest lapels here-" Mitchie pulled the lapels out almost to Julie's shoulders, "-red, I think, and put maybe different snaps...no, I think this coat is saying 'Uncle Ron' to me."

"Clothing speaks to you as well?" Chloe asked rapturously. "Maybe you're part French,_ mais americain ami."_

"D'know, I might be. Mostly Irish, we dress well as well."

"I've got a glorious idea! Let's get a whole great mess of totally train-wrecked clothes, then tonight we'll have a party in my room and turn 'em into stuff!"

"A sewing bee! Just before the Puritans burn us at the stake!"

"Huh?" the two Europeans asked.

"Sorry. Witch joke. I think that'd be fun."

About four hours later, three very well-burdened witches ducked into the alley and turned their wands on their packages. One 'Reducio' on the purchases and one 'Engorgio' on the doll-sized school robes they drew from their pockets later, they pulled their brooms out from behind the Dumpster and took off for Hogwarts through the thickening snowstorm.

**************************************************************** 

"Girls!" Uncle Ron cried as the witches landed. "Harry was about to go after you! Are you mad?"

"Not incredibly, just enough to be int'resting."

"That rat they caught in your room was Peter Pettigrew! He's had a heart attack and he's back in his human form."

"Peter who?" Mitchie asked.

Julie's eyes went glowing red. 

"Uh, he's a rat Animagus, once almost killed Julie's mum." Chloe explained as if the American'd missed part of a conversation of brooms and Snitches. 

"So it's an okay thing she's storming off like all hell's breaking loose?"

"I'm not sure. Her father got to Scabbers first."

"Who's Scabbers?"

"Pettigrew used to be my pet rat, I called him Scabbers. Hagrid called him Squidgy."

"Oh, so that's the one."

"Yeah, they also call him Wormtail. Glad we're all caught up!" The first year grabbed the Yank by the collar and began to drag her into the school. "If we could kindly go prevent the act of righteous homicide?"

"You aren't saying-?" Ron suddenly realized Julie'd stalked off with murder in mind. "You don't really think she'd-?"

"I d'know. Let's not find out!" 

And with that, Mitchie pulled free of the others and loped off to chase Julie down. The black-haired fifth-year was moving very quickly, but the American was catching up very rapidly. As Julie bolted up the stairs to the hospital wing, Mitchie began to race after her on all fours. By the time a very agitated Julie flung the door open, a reddish-brown wolf was following her in hot pursuit.

"Julie!" her father cried. "You're alright!"

"Of course I am," she answered in an icy tone. "Where's Mum?"

"She's fine. Pettigrew's in custody over there." Snape pointed to the worn, balding man lying on a hospital bed, handcuffed to the bars of it. He was unconscious but evidently just waking up. With a slow, measured tread, Julie moved toward the bed with a glare of death. Wormtail opened his eyes and saw her looking down at him.

"M-my Lady?" he mumbled in abject terror.

"I'm not your lady, rat. I'm not your anything." Slowly and deliberately, she went to draw her wand, but stopped when she saw the wolf standing there. "Mitch?"

The red wolf smiled a doglike smile and wagged her tail at her.

"You look better than I expected as a wolf, Miss Tyler," Professor Snape observed. Mitchie barked quietly and sniffed his hand as a dog might. "I don't suppose you'd consider guarding this rat for me?"

"Whuff," Mitchie observed in her wolfish way.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Grrrr," the wolf told Wormtail, putting her paws up on the side of the bed.

"Thank you, Yank, I don't want to be near this slime." Julie stepped away from Wormtail's bed rather angrily, then relaxed as she got further away from him. The rat-man, was, of course, terrified. "Dad, where's Mum?" Julie asked.

"She's in the Potions room. Come on."

The Snapes left as if leaving a prison cell. Wormtail relaxed a little and reached his manacled hand up to pet Mitchie's head.

"Nice...wolfy-"

"Ruff! Ruff! Grrrrr!"

The wolf snapped and barked, then sat back on her haunches and smiled at him. Madam Pomfrey brought the American a dish of water and placed it on the floor.

"Just in case you get thirsty on guard duty."

Mitchie reached up a paw to shake hands with her and then gave Wormtail another intimidation growl. 'Ahh,' she thought, 'this is the fun part here.'


	37. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme

A/N: Well, in completely unrelated news, my surgery's been put off for some complicated reason indefinitely! Freedom at last to just sit and write without the worry of whether or not the docs want to cut my hair. (Brain surgery, nothing. Haircut, disaster.) So as I sit here with my laptop in the dancing throes of ecstasy, I feel I must express again my thanks to all who review this. I realize that when a story gets this long, it is possible to get lost, so if you've any questions whatsoever, review and include them and I'll email you. By the way, I've started a new project with Aemos, basically a List of Potions and Ingredients. If you've got any good ones, send them on to us. Oh, and I've decided not to kill Wormtail off right away. (Apologies, Niamh!) I think he needs a long, slow demise.

Here you go.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

"Dad?" Julie asked as they walked up the hall toward the Potions room. "Why didn't you just let Wormtail die of that heart attack?"

"It wouldn't have been ethical or right, Julie. He deserves to be tried and sentenced properly."

"He almost killed Mum and you know it, Dad!"

"I also don't believe a heart attack would be a fair way for him to die."

"How can you want him to die humanely?"

"That's the thing, Julie, I don't. I think Wormtail deserves to be tried in the courts under Dumbledore, where not one wizard in England will speak willingly in his defense, and to be sentenced to what Albus will have done with him. Wormtail deserves that. I didn't say it was positive."

For a moment Julie's eyes remained brilliant red, and then they flickered and returned to cinnamon as she laughed and gave her Dad a hug. 

"You didn't kill him yourself, Julie," he pointed out. "Given the shade your eyes had gone, I might have thought you would."

"I can't, Dad. I'm only si- fifteen years old! I wanted to, no question, but I just didn't think I could."

"So you aren't completely evil."

"I haven't learned a kill curse yet."

Severus looked at Julie for a second in petrified shock before he saw her smile and realized it had been just a joke. 

"Seriously, Dad, I think I might have tried it if you and Mitchie hadn't been standing there."

"Well, I might have let him die if not for Hagrid and your mother, dear. There are some people who just annoy you by existing."

"How exactly did he kidnap Mum?"

Severus sighed heavily.

"She never remembered exactly, but we know he cut her arm when she tried to get away. Poppy saw the scar and figured she may have nearly bled to death. That may have something to do with her amnesia, but I'm not certain. When Malfoy finally found her ten months later, she was very ill. We didn't realize you had been born, of course, but she had also been malnourished and left in the cold. The bastard had her in the cellar of a ruined house somewhere in Godric's Hollow... you're not alone in wanting him dead, Julie."

The black-haired Seeker was shocked to the core by this announcement. Her father regained hs composure and opened the door to her Mum's classroom.

Sure enough, there was Professor Granger, neatly labeling bottles in that neat, even script of hers. As her Mum held up a bottle to stick the label on, Julie recognized the slight pinkish line corkscrewing up her right wrist. Now that she knew how it had been done, the sight made her want to eviscerate the rat. 

Another thought entered into her mind as well. Malfoy had been the one to finally find her Mum. Was that partially why her father liked him so much? And given the stories her uncles told about Draco, it was quite likely that thus he had earned their civility, saving their best friend's life. Why hadn't he told her? That sly ferret! Julie smiled a bit.

"Hello, dear!" her mother greeted, looking up. "How was London?"

"Very snowy. Mitchie's gone wolf, now."

"Oh, that's good. I thought it was time she did. This is the first time I'd tried the variation on Wolfsbane Potion that makes her transform faster. How long'd it take?"

"I wasn't watching; she was chasing me up the stairs to Madam Pomfrey's."

"And she changed mid-run? That's wonderful!" Hermione picked up a sheaf of parchment and began to write notes about the potion frantically mid-conversation. "Wait, what the devil were going to the nurse's for?"

"Uncle Ron told us about the rat when we landed."

"She only looked at him and refused his servitude." Severus explained. "I set Mitchie to guard him, seemed like the right dog for it."

"Wolf, Daddy, she hates it when we call her 'dog.'"

"Bloody standoffish Yanks."

"Don't I know it?" Julie asked jokingly. 

"So what-all did you three girls spend the day doing?"

"Well, we knocked around Dennon Street a little bit, ran into my old friend Jack Merridew after the library-"

"Why did I just _know_ you would go to the library?" her father asked.

"All we did was read smut on the Internet," Julie remarked flippantly. "And after that-"

"Excuse me?" Snape asked, a little shocked by this. "How exactly would you find '-smut' if the Muggle libraries have controls on minors and what they can view?"

"You would be shocked at some of the things you can find on the Internet," Hermione explained. "Why, when I was a kid at home on holidays, I used to read the most bizarre stories set in like, J. R. R. Tolkien or Victor Hugo's books. People would just write them, some serious, some just for fun, and let me tell you, there were some filthy ones. I believe the most off-the-wall was a Frodo/Galadriel fic, dead impossible plot-wise, but so chock-full of explicit details and all-"

"Excuse me?" Severus asked, giving her a raised eyebrow right along with Julie.

"Frodo and Galadriel?" Julie asked. "I'm sorry, Mum, there's just a limit to believability."

"I was thinking the explicit details part. Why would you be reading such..."

"Curiosity. I managed to learn quite a few things I shouldn't have, remarkable that you're complaining, dear."

Julie covered her ears and began to hum. Severus, reddening fiercely, kissed his wife as if to put that thought away for a little while. 

"Alright, it's safe. You can listen now."

Julie pulled her thumbs away from her ears and shook her head.

"Don't you hate it when one ear pops and the other doesn't? Nleah!" She made a rather unusual face, sticking out her tongue, then brightened and rubbed the ear in question. Hermione grinned at her.

"Sticking out your tongue did it?"

"Yeah."

"That's your eustacian tubes. Did you know that when a person transforms into a wolf, their eustacian tubes have to move about three inches higher over bone, and that's why they sometimes have headaches afterward?"

"Seriously?

"Yeah. That's why I've been slowly adding Whomping Willow bark, it's got the same effects as regular willow, but much stronger...rather like naproxen sodium compared to aspirin in the Muggle world."

"Lasts longer, too, doesn't it?" Severus asked. "I'm still working on a potion that counteracts the effects of Veritaserum; makes it almost impossible to tell the truth." He was obviously explaining this for Julie's benefit, as Hermione pulled a roll of parchment from her desk drawer and handed it to him.

"Here's that diagram of reactives you wanted, dear."

"Thank you, I didn't think you'd have it done for a week or so."

"Well, I had a little spare time, somebody assigned me the Weasley boys for detention and they labeled all the new ingredients from their mothers' shop for me." She was raising an eyebrow at Julie, knowing she had something to do with this. "And yes, I did count the vials when they were done, Severus."

"I'm amazed Draco didn't assign them to me this time."

"He knew you'd kill them, Dad. And I suggested Mum could use the help." Julie looked a little concernedly at her mother. "When are you going to go on, like, parent leave?"

"I see no need to. The baby won't even be born until June at least, so why miss any classes?"

"Well, stop lifting heavy items soon, and no more breathing potion fumes." Severus looked every bit as irrationally protective as his daughter was. "I would suggest a good Antirhinus charm to take care of the breathing part."

"And purposely stop up my nose all day? It would sound like a terrible cold, don't you think, Severus?"

"I just don't want anything to go wrong this time. God knows how it was with Julie all those years ago."

"I still don't recall a thing about that, Sev."

"I thought baby-having left some kind of marks or something," Julie said. "A few of my old roommates got pregnant, unfortunately."

"So you probably know more about it than I do, dear. Crimeny, even Ginny knows more about having kids than me."

"Sounds like perhaps we should go to the library, Mum."

"I wonder if you two know where it is," Severus joked. "Or does knowing half the contents by rote kind of make that irrelevant?" He patted Hermione's still normal stomach and spoke to Whoever encouragingly. "Don't worry, you'll probably get used to the reading, it's something we do often in this family."

"Can babies hear you, dear?"

"Not for another three months or so."

"I was an only child, I wouldn't know about this."

"My mother's friend had a baby when I was nine. Other than that, I know just about as much as Julie might."

"All I know about is morning sickness, mood swings, swelling feet and ankles, weird food cravings, feeling very inclined to yell at your poor roommate when she doesn't wait on you hand and foot, and babies tend to kick around the fourth month or so."

"Well, morning sickness and swollen ankles are a non-issue," Hermione said with some relief, gesturing to the multitude of potion cabinets. "I doubt if I'll be very temperamental, considering how gifted the house-elves are, and I don't imagine babies kick incredibly hard, you see."

"I thought you didn't like house-elves, Mum."

"No, it's the idea of their slavery that I don't like. I've figured out, though, that if you convince them that being able to read cookbooks will make their food taste better, they do learn to read fairly well quickly; and it's just as easy to make them accept clothes and aprons and things. There are a few in the castle who accept tips, finally, although I know for a fact Freddie just buys spices for his recipes. It's like Mitchie said, I might have been an American."

"Well, thank Merlin you weren't. I think the accent might have made you stick out a bit." Severus had taken a chair beside his wife and was sticking the labels on the bottles after she finished writing them. Julie had started cutting out more labels with pinking shears from the sheet of Parker's Super-Sticky, Never-Come-Off Parchment, so that a neat little assembly line had sort of formed.

"There's something I sort of don't get about Mitch, actually."

"Besides the whole inability to pronouce simple sentences without sounding like a broken violin?" Severus inquired sarcastically.

"No, it's the whole anti-patriotic thing. She doesn't really care whether or not de Diablo starts a war with America, just so long as she can live in Pittsburgh when she's eighteen without her foster folks. I thought Americans really liked their country a lot."

"Most of them really do. Before you were born, the Muggles were attacked by some others from the Middle East, and there was a fairly nasty war against the terrorists. Patriotism became very fashionable. But there are always people who like to buck the trends and ride against the norm. It's also very likely your friend is bitter about her experience in orphanages."

"I still love _my_ country, though."

"Yes, but orphanages in England aren't as directly controlled by the government as they are in America. Mitchie probably had to put up with constrictive rules passed for what seemed like no reason at all to her, which is something Yanks find very hypocritical."

"Still, it's kind of weird the way she talks down their government. I mean, she's working for them, now, isn't she?"

"Actually, Mitchie was requested by Dumbledore. Her government has no idea she's being compensated the way she is, and if the wizarding President wasn't so close to Dumbledore, she probably wouldn't have gotten to come at all."

"Then you know she's being expatriated here 'til she turns eighteen?"

"We also know a lot of why she was chosen. The fact that the Tylers helped to round up Death Eaters has a little to do with it."

"Did you know her parents?" 

"I met them once or twice."

"John and Cass went with me to catalogue the Riddle house –they were hilarious. After nightfall when they turned into wolves, they worked the way Muggle bloodhounds do, except that Muggle bloodhounds don't howl actual people songs."

Julie could barely imagine people funny enough for her father to call 'hilarious.' 

"Does Mitchie know the Aurors here worked with them?"

"I haven't told her I knew them, if that's what you mean."

"That would be nice of you, dear," Hermione pointed out. "I'd wait until she's turned back into a person, though."

********************************************************** 

"Hey, Mitchie," Donaghan said quietly, padding gently into the hospital wing. "Yehr fur matches your 'air, i' looks really nice."

"Thank you, dear. Look who professor Snape has me guarding." Mitchie put her paws up on the railing of the bed and growled at Wormtail a little bit.

"Mitchie!" Donaghan exclaimed at the obscenity. 

"That's Peter Pettigrew, he almost killed Professor Granger."

"I heard about that. He also turned Professor Potter's parents over to Voldemort."

Mitchie lept up and growled at the rat-man again, this time baring her teeth and adding a couple barks.

"Hey, you," Madam Pomfrey chided. "Not so loud, you're going to scare the others here."

A little first-year was getting a scraped knee patched up. Donaghan padded over on his large wolf paws and sniffed at him. It was Kenny Longbottom.

"Nice...wolf," Kenny said, nervously reaching out to pat Donaghan. The seventh-year licked his hand and wagged his tail like a friendly dog. Mitchie, too, came over and put her head under Kenny's hand to be petted. "Good wolves," the little boy told them. "Look, they match."

"Yes, they do, don't they?" Madam Pomfrey agreed. 

Donaghan and Mitchie looked at each other. Sure enough, both had reddish auburn fur, Mitchie's a little lighter than Donaghan's.

"Are they your pets, ma'am?" Kenny asked the nurse politely.

"No, these are some nice guard wolves here to watch over Peter Pettigrew. Professor Snape sent them."

"Why does Professor Snape want wolves to guard him? Is he a Dark wizard?"

"Yes, but these are friendly wolves. They only growl at Pettigrew because they know what he did and they don't like him."

"Uh, Madam Pomfrey?" Kenny asked. "Are they supposed to do that?"

Donaghan was kissing his girlfriend, but to humans it looked like they were licking each other's faces.

"Michelle! Donaghan!"

Reluctantly, the two werewolves drew apart, the big one looking guilty and the littler one with a somewhat ticked look at being interrupted so. Kenny suddenly began to laugh.

"So that's what Chloe found out about you, Donaghan! This is so cool! Who's your girlfriend –wait, aren't you dating Chloe's friend Mitchie?"

"It's short for Michelle," Mitchie explained, but to Kenny it sounded more like "whuff, sniff, arrr-oowl."

"It _is_ Mitchie," Madam Pomfrey explained quite defeatedly. 

"Whuff!"

"Kenny, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this a secret, though. I'm sure Mitchie and Donaghan don't want everyone in school teasing them about being werewolves, you know."

"Of course, ma'am. Geez, I thought werewolves were mean, but you guys are just like Professor Hagrid's dog!"

"Arrrooo!"

"What I believe Mr. McPhersen is trying to say, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Snape observed as he entered the room, "is that werewolves now take the Wolfsbane Potion, which makes them about as harmless as a wizard in Animagus form."

"Arf!"

"Yes, it should taste awful, Miss Tyler, it's supposed to do that."

"Well, I'd better get back to my homework," Kenny said a little nervously. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey...see you later, guys."

"Whuff!"

"Arrf!"

"I think that means good-night," Severus translated.

"Oh, thanks... see you later, Professor Snape."

"Good luck on the surprise test tomorrow, Kenny."

"Oh, yes! Thank you, sir!"

The wolves moved back to their places beside the evil Wormtail's bed. Snape smiled cynically and put down a large, shiny plate.

"Here. This is what Hagrid uses to feed Claw on holidays. Tell it what you want, and it will appear, just like the –er, people kind."

"Arr-ow!"

"Yes, you're very welcome. Thank you for watching him." Professor Snape hesitated a few moments, and then gave each student a brief scratch behind the ears. 'This could maybe be a little less bizarre,' he thought. "Minister Dumbledore's Aurors will be here to take him away in a few hours. Good evening."

When he had gone and Madam Pomfrey gotten back to work, Mitchie turned to Donaghan, giggling. 

"Professor Snape just had to talk to wolves just now!"

"Did y' see the look on 'is face? Tha' were wonderful!"

"You've never been around another wolf before when you've transformed, have you?"

"Jes' Mr. Lupin, an' 'e's, well, a guy, y'know? I 'ad no idea y' were so lovely as a wolf." Donaghan kissed Mitchie again and she licked him back as well.

"We should really be doing our work, though, Don."

"Righ'."

Both wolves put their paws up on the bedrail and bared their teeth at Peter Pettigrew. He was asleep. They went back to the ground.

"Y'know, I'm not sure he really needs to be watched, y'know? Madam Pomfrey's here, he hasn't got a wand, and his wrists are cuffed."

"I'm thinkin' maybe this is Julie an' 'Fessor Snape's idea of matchmakin'."

"Naw, cause they knew we were already...Merlin's earlobes, she _did_ introduce us, Don."

"Yeah, y're right! D'you suppose that's why y're here, Michelle?"

"No, Minister Dumbledore sent for me. Julie didn't know about it at all."

"Well, I was a'suspectin', considerin' how we'd broken up just awhile before y' came."

"Donaghan?" Mitchie asked quietly. 

"Yeah, Michelle?"

"I don't want to pry or anything, but just how close did you and Julie get?"

"Well, we never-"

"I _know_ that, I just meant...did you love her?"

Donaghan was silent for a few seconds.

"Y'know, I really think I thought I did for awhile, there. But after I found out she was datin' another guy, or _said_ she was, i' occured to me she was better as a Quidditch friend an' a nice girl to study with. I were jus' hung up on somebody because I was so lonely."

__

"Said she was?"

"I know Julie'd never really-" Mitchie furrowed her lupine eyebrows and shook her head. "Then y' know who it is?"

"I can't tell you, Don. But she still seems to love you as a friend, y'know."

The Scotwolf sighed and then placed his paw on his girlfriend's, brightening considerably. 

"Then I'm free to love y' as much as I want, then, aren't I?"

"Donaghan, don't talk that way, you don't know-"

"Hey, Mitchie, I'm startin' t' love y', isn' that a good thing an' all?"

"Wolves mate for life, okay? I'm not going to go rushing into something at sixteen with a guy I've known maybe a month."

"They do?"

"No, _we_ do. You're a wolf, now, two nights a month. I know you aren't used to all the trappings yet, but this is who you're going to be for your whole life, y'know? It's not going to go away the minute Professor Granger cooks up a potion to take it all off!"

"I'm sorry, Mitch, I guess I'm jus' after still bein' used to the other way."

The girl wolf kissed her Scot on the cheek again.

"Look on the bright side, Donaghan. You can speak to dogs when you're in your wolf form, now, you can smell, hear, and taste better, your hands and feet become less sensitive to papercuts, and if you like you can work as a bloodhound Auror for your Ministry."

"Really? Is 'at what you're gonna do?"

"Not for the Ministry, dear, I'm American." She spat the last word out with a tooth-baring leer.

"I thought Minister Dumbledore had made you a British citizen."

"It's temporary by my own request. The minute I don't have to answer to foster folks, I'm going home to Pittsburgh to pick up where my parents left off, y'know?"

"See, I don't get y' there. Y' hate your country, but love y're town."

"City."

"Ah, well, city. It's unusual to think that way abou' y're home."

"Not where I come from. I've met people who pretend to be Canadian when they go abroad and yet insist on claiming Brooklyn as their hometown."

"Is that near Pittsburgh?"

"That's part of New York City. Say, would you like to come see Pittsburgh sometime?"

"Sure, Mitchie m'darlin'. What's i' like?"

That was about as intelligent a question as asking Julie what the Moody Blues had written. Mitchie began to describe the unusual three-rivers layout of her hometown, actually gesturing the image out with her paw.

"So where the Monongahela, Allegheny, and Ohio meet, that's called the Golden Triangle, where Point Park is. Then here's the Cultural District, and the Strip District's here, and the two stadiums, and up here to the right is the old prison. It sort of looks like a little Hogwarts, 'scept the stones are more brown than gray and it's not that tall. Do you like rollercoasters?"

"What are they?" Donaghan inquired. 

Had he announced that he didn't know what a book was, Mitchie could not have looked more shocked.

"Rollercoasters," she explained, "are the reason why wizards protect Muggles from being rounded up and eaten by trolls." An intense discussion followed as the American tried desperately to explain what a rollercoaster was and Donaghan said it sounded like the cars at Gringotts bank. Finally, Mitchie gave up and told him she'd show him a picture when they got back to Gryffindor Tower.

"They are after soundin' kinda fun, though, Mitch."

"I think you'll like them. The best one on earth is in Pittsburgh. And I'm not exaggerating! Even you Brits agree the Thunderbolt is the best!"

"Is i' fast, then?"

Mitchie looked totally disgusted by that question.

"Donaghan, does Wolfsbane Potion taste awful? Is Professor Snape sarcastic? Is Professor Hagrid _tall?"_

"I guess it is, then." He kissed her and they wound up rolling around like playful puppies for a while after.

Madam Pomfrey heard the sound and looked at them.

"Teenagers," she remarked exasperatedly.

******************************************************************** 

Nearly-Headless Nick accepted the mail from his ghostly translucent barn owl and noticed the fat envelope first of all. It bore the crest of the Podmores.

"Oh, well, my rejection letter's late this year," he mumbled.

His spectral eyes widened in shock when he opened it, however:

__

'Dear Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington,  
It is with heartiest enthusiasm that I invite you to serve as Captain Referee in the annual Headless Hunt, upon review of excellent recommendation by the Hogwarts Gryffindor Quidditch team.  
-Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore  
P.S. Have you already got a white-and-black striped doublet?'

******************************************************************** 

"Please, Professor, I didn't mean any harm by it!" Jennifer Blodgett was protesting. Malfoy had her hung upside down magically in one of the unused classrooms in the dungeons. "Please!"

"Tomorrow morning, I want you to apologize to the people you wrote about."

"Yes, sir!"

"And if I ever catch you writing drivel like that again," the blond professor promised as he turned the student right-side-up and set her on her feet again, "I'll leave you up there until the spell wears off. Now get out!"

Jennifer sprinted out of the room and down the hall, past her twin and cousin as if the Devil were chasing her.

"Mr. Blodgett, you're next," Draco told Jeremy.

Lyfften Grudgett's cousins were twins and identical in almost every way except for their gender. Jen was the elder of the two by three minutes and resembled Draco's current girlfriend just a little too closely for comfort, so he had been relieved to find out her greatest fear was being hund upside down and dropped on the head. Jem looked a lot like his sister except with a firmer jaw and the beginnings of sideburns, and neither one of them had anything close to Julie's ascetic Snape nose or wild Granger hair. Still, torturing them was bothering Malfoy a little bit.

"Step over here, Jeremy." Draco indicated a patch of floor between two bookcases. Obediently the Slytherin stepped over and stood in the middle. "Do you know what this piece of tripe is about?" the professor asked, holding up a bit of parchment marked 'The Slytherin Times.' 

"Jen and Lyff and I had to write a newspaper for Muggle Studies class."

"You don't even _take_ Muggle Studies, Blodgett, and neither does Jen or Lyff. Besides, this is what the Muggles call a 'tabloid rag' and you would have failed the assignment abysmally."

Suddenly Jem found himself unable to move as the two bookcases began to slowly come toward each other. Unless Professor Malfoy stopped it, he'd be crushed like a nut.

"I'M SORRY, PROFESSOR!" the terrified boy shrieked, nearly bursting into tears at the idea of being crushed alive.

"Good. I suggest you apologize to everyone you wrote about and destroy every copy of this tripe you can lay hands upon. Get out of my sight!"

Blodgett gone, Draco called the slouching, malevolent Lyfften into the classroom next. His 'interrogation' was identical to his cousins', except that Grudgett's greatest fear was stepping on rusty nails. He actually went hysterical for a moment and needed to calm down.

Even so, Julie was very puzzled to meet Lyff Grudgett and have him almost groveling at her feet. She managed to accept his apology and send him on his merry way without letting on that she had even known about the Slytherins' newspaper, and then continued on her little quest to track down her Draco. Sure enough, he was closing and locking a vacant classroom when she found him a second or so later.

"Dare I even ask why Lyff Grudgett just apologized?"

"This was one of your father's old tricks on the Slytherins. He used to find out and keep track of everyone's greatest fears, and if ever we did something truly awful enough, he'd bring us in and basically scare us back onto the straight and narrow. That's how come I read '1984'."

With one of his most wonderfully knee-weakining grins, Draco pointed out the number '101' on the door of the unused classroom. Julie giggled, understanding the reference.

"So you took Grudgett down a couple pegs for me?"

"I took Grudgett, Blodgett and Blodgett down a few pegs for you."

"All three of them? Uncle Draco, you're such a dear!"

Malfoy's eyebrows went up in surprise at the way she had addressed him, but then realized little Lester Bulstrode was walking by. They had an elaborately faked conversation for a few minutes, then kissed briefly after the annoying first-year was out of earshot.

"Your room?"

"Definitely."

They scampered off.

*********************************************************************** 

Severus stacked the vials carefully into his wife's potion cabinet. Most of them were common Aging Potions, however there were a few Youth Potions included in the shipment. He noticed that there was a note included in the box the potions had come in.

'Dear Hermione,  
Thought your cat could do with some Youth Potion. Timothy and Thomas have enjoyed petting him during detention and told us of his condition.  
-Jaqueline and Marguerite'

Severus smiled. The Weasley twins' wives owned the best potion ingredient shop in Hogsmeade and they had always been considerate, friendly sorts. He had known their teacher at Beauxbatons, and knowing how annoying Andre Trouchard could be, he respected Marguerite and Jacquie St. Just-Weasley for even studying Potions at all. It seemed to be a tradition among European magical headmasters to hire the most intolerable faculty to teach Potions. Maybe that was how the magical world prevented people like Tom and Tim from spiking drinks on a daily basis with dangerous concoctions. He picked up two of the vials and the note to give to his wife in her office.

"Dear?" Hermione looked up and Sev gave her the note. She read it and grinned.

"That's nice of them. Do you want to put some in Crookshanks' dish?"

"Sure." Severus opened the vial and poured it into the cat dish by the bed where the orange creature was still napping. "Crookshanks, here's some potion," he told the cat, petting him in a most un-Professor Snape-like manner. The rheumatic old cat woke up and began to lick lazily at the bowl. 

"Mrrreow," Crookshanks said a few seconds later, looking more chipper than he had in quite awhile. Hermione and Severus laughed as he lapped up the potion and bounded onto the desk like a younger cat.

"Why do you suppose Jaquie and Marguerite sent two bottles?" Hermione wondered, reading the neat label. "There's two seven-year doses in each of these."

"There's also four more out in your cabinet. Do you think maybe they intended..." Sev gestured at himself.

"Even if they did, smutty French pharmacologists, I wouldn't do that, dear." Hermione kissed Severus on the cheek and then again on the lips. "I like you very much just the way you are."

"But if people only live to be eighty now-?" Severus indicated her still-unshowing pregnancy. 

"How old is Dumbledore? You're thinking like a Muggle, dear."

"Now that's something I've never been accused of yet." 

The two professors succumbed to unabashed snogging behind Professor Granger's desk. Katie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff, arrived to ask a question about how Pumblerose dye would alter denim indigo, but noticed the activity within and fled unobtrusively.

That had happened fairly often since Hermione started teaching there.

************************************************************************* 

"Why didn't you tell me you found my Mum, Draco?" Julie asked, leaning gently against her much-older boyfriend's chest.

"I don't know. You never asked me."

"That's not like you, though. According to most of the reports I've gotten, you're something of a showoffy Slytherin."

"According to some of the reports I've gotten, you're an obsessive defense neurotic with chameleon eyes and a severe allergy to strawberries."

"That's rubbish and you know it! I love strawberries!"

"But the obsessive defense bit, dear?"

"Merely a product of my conditioning."

"I want you to stop carrying a knife, Julie."

"Why? It's dead useful when I need to sharpen quills and stuff."

"I anticipated that." Draco pulled out a shiny, small object, about the dimensions of his thumb, but just a bit longer. "Use this for quills. The knife thing is dangerous."

Julie looked at the tiny penknife and opened it. The blade glowed slightly and shone like it was on fire.

"It's called an Illuslice. The blade is a magic one. Try to cut your finger." The blade went right through it like a ghost. "See? It'll only cut nonliving things."

"Thank you," Julie said quietly, and pulled out her knife. It was obviously a small modified kitchen one with a ring soldered on so she could twirl it as one would six-guns in old Western movies. Next came the switchblade with the asterisk etched on the blade with a pin, the short dagger she'd converted from a pear corer, and last of all a slightly chipped throwing knife.

"You had four of them?"

"There's one more. _Accio!"_ Julie reached up and caught a rather bizarre-looking blade with a hook on the end of it. "Actually, this is a shrimp deveiner I sharpened. People find it rather intimidating knowing I could pull out some of their insides. You keep them. I haven't got any more."

Draco looked at the minor arsenal now laid out on his coffee table. Five blades from fifteen years of insecurity.

"You're really doing this?"

"Yep. Getting rid of my last orphanage fears, y'know."

"You know, in cultures where women are armed property, turning over their knives to a guy is a sign of totally trusting him."

"I know. Nadraks, right?" Julie kissed her Draco. "After all, I _have_ been to a library once or twice."

********************************************************************** 

About an hour later, with Julie asleep on the couch with him, Draco realized just how seriously she meant this. If she wasn't Severus's daughter, he'd have stopped it then and there. A fifteen-year-old entirely trusted him. He had never been trusted entirely except by Severus and Dumbledore. Come to think of it, Draco wasn't even quite sure he _should_. 

And yet, Julie's giving up her knives meant another thing. He had terrified three students defending her, and now she was giving up her old method of defense. In a chivalrous sense, Draco had become her champion. 'How did that happen?' he wondered. 'Shouldn't her dad take her knives away?'

And right then, the third thing occured to him. Severus wouldn't be there in America.

Malfoy had just become the Knight Protector of the Dark Lady.

But even better, he had been trusted by a girl he really could see himself loving.

Julie began to mumble a little aimlessly in her sleep. Amused, Draco listened hard and found most of it to be French phrases, a little Italian quoted verbatim from a Puccini opera, snatches of Shakespeare, pieces of Muggle rock lyrics... and an 'I love you,' buried in all the midst of this.

Draco froze, uncertain if she even meant what she had said. For one petrified moment he looked at the sleeping girl with black hair and one streak of it dazzling white.

And then, very quietly, so as not to wake her up, Draco whispered the same small sentence in her ear.

********************************************************************** 


	38. Christmas Preparations

A/N: I'm not sure if y'all caught it in last chapter, but my description of Tim and Tom's mothers…that's something Aemos helped me figure out. I mean, I knew they had to have a shop of their own, but what they actually did and were like were a bit beyond me at the time. It was also her idea to have them be from Beauxbatons.   
In one of the reviews I got, somebody suggeted I read Riley's 'Pawn to Queen,' which I did and really liked a lot. But then I came across a story by Minerva McTabby called 'PtQ in a Nutshell,' which was a rather wonderful thing, I thought, parodying the story Riley wrote to within an inch of its' life. If anybody has some time on their hands and the inclination to be rather iconoclastic for a few hours, I'd really find a parody of this funny. And there's so bloody much to make fun of, y'know?

Ah, well. It was nice to see somebody understood the 'Nadrak' reference, Nuri. 

Here you go.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Christmas Preparations

"OW!"

"Really, Mitch, you'd poke yourself a lot less if you sewed slower and maybe used a thimble," Chloe observed.

"If they made a thimble that fit, I'd maybe wear one." Mitchie eyed her fingertips querulously. Julie looked at her American friend's left hand and stared at the hard nubs that made wearing a thimble near impossible.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"What d'you mean, wrong? It took me nearly seven years to get 'em good like that!"

"Good?" Chloe asked, looking in shock at the Yank's disfigurement. "What were they like before?"

"You Euros. The British Invasion obviously didn't come from here." Mitchie pulled out her wand and Summoned what looked like what once had been a rather cheap acoustic guitar. It was now a trainwreck of stickers and patches and one old pickup with copper wires coming out the side. "This is what m'calluses are for."

"Oh, you play the guitar?" Julie brightened and looked at it. "Uh, what happened to it?"

"Nothing happened. It was my mother's…she was Muggle-born."

Chloe gently ran a finger down the neck of Mitchie's obviously beloved instrument. There were scribbles all over the lighter patches and most of the stickers were from rock bands Julie recognized. 

"Isn't this-?" Chloe looked questioningly at a particularly wild scribble. Mitchie grinned.

"Yep, Donaghan Tremlett of the Weird Sisters. Mom met Dad at a wizarding rock concert." She indicated another, more neat scribble. "Justin Hayward. Their first date was to the Moody Blues concert at Star Lake the next week. And this is D'jhandrien Rhavens, and Eric Woolfson, and over here's Geri Halliwell."

"Your parents were vintage rock junkies?"

"Yep, jus' like me. In fact, one of the things they found funny was that they were named John and Cass, that's how come I was named Michelle and am called Mitchie."

Julie laughed. Chloe didn't.

"I don't get it."

"It's rather an American Muggle in-joke. Y'know, Julie, I'm only six months younger than you, so it's quite likely this isn' my first trip to England after all."

They all laughed at that idea, until Julie suddenly went somber.

"Mitchie, what were you in the hospital for when your parents- you know?"

"Bein' born," the Yank whispered very quietly. "I lived with my dad's brother until I was three before he died, then I guess I just ran out of relatives and wound up in the orphanage." Mitchie picked up the guitar and executed a brief chord progression from 'Anji' by Simon & Garfunkel, then grinned. "It was kind of cool, though, y'know, how my parents met. Dad spent the whole evening following Mom around, trying to figure out how to talk to her without sounding like a stalker, y'know, and then she wound up talking to him before he even realized it. They went on dates to concerts for the next five months, until finally Dad had to cancel 'cause the concert was on the night of a full moon. He still went, though, with some Wolfsbane Potion, just to see Mom, and another werewolf bit her and would have most likely eaten her for a midnight snack had not Dad fought him and saved her life. She woke up the next morning to find him there, guarding her like the loyal wolf 'e was, and he wound up helping her when she started transforming an' all. By the next time the Weird Sisters were in town, Dad got up the nerve to ask her to marry him. They started working as Aurors together a little while after that, and they'd been married about four years 'fore I came along." 

Mitchie told the story as if she'd heard it over and over, but never known the two people involved. Chloe thought the story was awfully romantic, as did Julie.

"My muzzer was one of the smartest witches in her class at Beauxbatons, and she came here to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. Dad was a seventh-year, and he asked her to the Christmas ball. They wound up dating into their university years. Mamà says he could barely finish sentences in her presence, seemed almost stupid until she told him she was going home to France and wouldn't see him anymore. Then suddenly he told her how he felt about her and turned out to be one of the most eloquent Englishmen Mamà had ever heard. They eloped 'zat very day to Paris and spent the next seven years traveling around the world before they finally bought a chateau and settled down to have me and my little brother."

"That sounds awfully French of them," the Yank observed. "How 'bout you, Julie, how did your parents meet?"

For a moment Julie pondered this before the thre young Gryffindor witches cracked up totally.

"Dratted if I know, actually, they just seem to have got snoggy somewhere sixteen-odd years ago."

"More than snoggy, Brit, you're sittin' here, aren't you?"

"You know, Mitchie, you're starting to pick up a Scottish brogue. I'd keep those cracks to yourself before I start mentioning 'puppies' to Donaghan."

"Gah, yuck!" 

"Well, it's good to know you feel that way. 'Gah, yuck' is pretty much how I feel about reproducing, too." Chloe smiled a bit mischievously. "For now, that is."

"Good lord, I'm surrounded by smutbunnies." Julie gave her friends a fairly well-disturbed look. "Am I the only one not thinking of shagging now?"

"Considering you're the only one treacherous enough to get away with it, yeah."

"And considering we're both with Gryffindors, who –no offense to Aldous- have got to be the most chivalrously unfuckable guys on the damn planet."

"Chloe Madeleine!" Julie exclaimed in surprised horror. 

"I don't think 'unfuckable's even a word, Chloe."

"Oh, you're really helping, Mitch, correcting her language here!"

"Is anything wrong?" a voice just outside the door inquired. It opened to reveal none but the Head of Gryffindor House herself.

"Nothing but a dangerously hormonal bunch of foreigners," Julie observed with mock prudery. "We're sewing Christmas presents."

"How very American of you. Mind if I hang around?"

"Come-on-sit-down, per'fessor," Mitchie invited, making a space on the floor between her and Julie. "We were just discussing how our parents met."

"Oh, my parents' story's not very interesting. They met at a dentists' convention."

"In _England?_ Wow!"

Mitchie tended to make too many cracks about the British people-bad teeth stereotype, so she wasn't too surprised when Julie smacked her upside the head. Everyone else thought it funny, though.

"Didn't you know my parents are both dentists, Mitchie? I had the hardest time convincing them to let me shrink my front teeth until Professor Malfoy cursed them to grow to about there long." Hermione showed the Gryffies just how bad the curse had been, causing howls of laughter. "Then Madam Pomfey shrunk 'em back and I just let her go a bit farther."

"So that's why you let me get mine fixed, Mum?"

"Yep. Draco hasn't teased you about it, right?"

As Julie shook her head, Mitchie and Chloe just about swallowed their own tongues.

"Naw, I just mention ferrets and he goes very pliable. It was fortunate Uncle Ron told me about what your old professor did."

"Mad-Eye Moody –well, Barty Crouch, really- sure was a piece of work. Say, did Uncle Ron tell you about the time I got angry in third year and smacked Draco?"

"Yep. I think that sounds like a very cool thing to do."

That was too much. Mitchie burst out laughing, and then so did Chloe. Julie gave them a look.

"Have you both gone completely mad?"

"I thought you said 'e was cute, Julie!"

"Oh, really?" Hermione asked her daughter a bit mischievously. "I thought you had gotten over the Lockhart phase."

"Mum, he's cute. You have to admit that much at least."

"I don't see what she sees in him," Chloe said.

"Well, that's cause you're used to blond hair, Chloe. To those of us with dark hair he's really a box of it."

"You, too?" Hermione asked Mitchie.

"No, I just admire him as a nice little statuesque decoration that walks around. It's only Julie who goes around picking fights to watch him get all scruffly."

_"Scruffly?"_ Julie asked.

"You know, when some of his hair gets out of the ponytail and falls all across his face when he gets ticked off? Scruffly." Mitchie smiled a little salaciously. "I like to do the same thing to Donaghan."

"Now I think it's cute that you're dating him," Chloe said. 

"I've got just one thing to agree with that," Julie smiled a very Snapeish grin. "Puppies."

"About that," Professor Granger said, a bit more seriously. "I realize you've probably found out about the anticeptive charm, but I've got to remind you it isn't infallible. It's probably not a good idea to get into that kind of –activity while you're still in school, you know."

"Speaking of, Mum, you've never told me how you met Dad."

"Yeah! Come on Professor!"

"Grace us with the tale."

"Guys, this is not the kind of story you're supposed to like."

"Are you mad? We teenage girls thrive on romantic sentimentality!" The other two gave Mitchie a startled look. "Well, that and old Ewan McGregor flicks."

"Alright, I'll tell you."

The Gryffies pricked up their ears and lay their needles and cloth down.

"Go on, per'fessor," Mitchie begged, anxious to hear the story.

"Okay. Do you guys know the Defense Against the Dark Arts room?" They nodded. "Well, when I was at school, Sev- -Professor Snape taught Potions there. And even though he was probably more of a nettle then than he is in class now, I really liked Potions class more than my other ones. So I asked him if I could do my fifth-year project on it."

"Gaw, Mum, you were my age?" Julie asked in shock.

"Not _then!_ Anyway, I wound up spending a lot of time after school that year in the dungeon studying ingredients and preparing them kind of like an apprentice would. Your father was annoying as hell, of course, but somehow a little less rough and ticky every time I did something right. I finished my project in April and he gave me an 'A', and then for some reason he asked me if I'd like to do another for his class next year. Ron and Harry thought I was mad, but I accepted, and in sixth year I finally made him laugh."

"How?" Chloe asked. 

"I made a rather unkind crack about Gryffindors. I'd had a pretty bad row with Ron that day, so it was sort of justified, except your father thought it was the most hilarious thing he had ever heard. I started to like him right about then, and when he kissed me a month later, well…" For a thirty-three-year-old professor, it was remarkable how Julie's mum could look just like a lovesick teenager. "I'm sure you get the idea of how it went."

"Now there's an example of a dish, Mitchie, 'Fessor Snape!"

"Sod off, Chloe! That's my _dad_ for cripes' sake!" Julie protested. Hermione laughed, as did the American.

"I'm sure you're not the only one who thinks so, dear. I've always found him rather nice myself."

"Well, that's profoundly obvious, Mum."

"Is it? Damn, I've been trying to hide that from the Slytherins. Guess the Gryffies still don't miss anything."

"Nope. We know all about the snogging in your office last Saturday." Chloe and Julie gave the Yank a look, as _they_ had not known. "Katie Macmillan says she's traumatized for life."

"We've really got to get in the habit of closing doors."

"Mum, do you think Dad'll like this shirt?" Julie held up a black garment made of patches rather like her own, only instead of different colors she had used textured velvet in different patterns.

"I think that should suit him perfectly. Believe me, I _try_ to get him to wear something besides black occasionally, but Fred and George keep setting me back with their clothes-changing pranks."

"Why don't you put little green snakes on the lapels, then, Jules? It would be a start." Chloe tossed her friend the green embroidery silk.

"What a spiffy idea!" Julie threaded the needle and set to the task of making little Slytherin snakes in a sort of S-shaped pose. "Owch!" She popped her finger in her mouth, having pricked herself. 

"Are you three doing all this by hand?"

"Yeah. Neither of us knows any sewing spells." Mitchie showed the professor her guitar-calloused left and rather pricked right hand. "You couldn't maybe teach us a 'thimble' one?"

"Well, no, but 'Stiticus' sews seams, if you were wondering." The girls obediently tried it and found it worked rather well; one traced the end of one's wand where one wanted something sewn and the stitches seemed to go in like ballpoint pen. "Julie already knows how the countercharm works."

Her daughter went suitably red at that.

"Alright, Julie, now what happened?" Mitchie had the 'mischievous Yank' look about her again.

"Well, I accidentally did a wandless spell and mine and Professor Malfoy's clothes fell apart."

That was the end of her two housemates' sanity for the remainder of the evening. Chloe had to be zapped with a hiccup-reversal charm, and Mitchie couldn't even look at Julie without cracking up again. There were a few tasteless inquiries about what Julie had observed during the episode, answered with a suitably joking salacious grin.

"Well, he's built a little nice for a Seeker guy, but all I saw was when he was buttoning his shirt back on."

"What a godawful missed opportunity!"

"Mitchie, did anyone ever tell you to go take a cold shower?"

"Yes, Chloe, actually several people have." The Yank grinned. "Considering I've got a bathtub, though, I'd say Donaghan's up the creek."

"Merlin's nails, Mitch, we've got a professor here!" the French girl protested. "Don't you know the meaning of propriety?"

"Propriety, noun; rightness or correctness, SEE 'Etiquette'!"

"Damn Barbra Streisand movies in the Muggle Studies room. D'you have to commit everything to memory?"

"I heard someone had been breaking in there at night!" Professor Granger said. "Filch's ready to stand guard himself, you know."

"Mum, it's the only place besides the Drama room where electrics work!"

"Speaking of, per'fessor Granger, what's up with that?"

"There's too much magic in the air here, plus there weren't any plugs when the castle was designed, so the only way to have electrical things is with an Arthurian Transformer wired up to a Muggle portable generator."

"By Arthurian, d'you mean King Arthur?"

"Don't be a prat, Yank, she means Tim an' Tom's granddad!"

"Oh. I didn't realize he had invented those."

"Most people wouldn't. So few wizards feel the need for electricity, he doesn't make that much in patent royalties. But at least he's been given a license to experiment with Muggle artifacts, which is what he wanted anyway."

"That's neat, actually. D'you suppose I could get one of those transformers for my amp?"

"Amp?" Mitchie handed Professor Granger her guitar. "Oh, for the electric bit here…what's it called?"

"That's a pickup, see, there's the tone controls and the jack for your patch cord here." 

Mitchie turned the instrument over and explained what a pickup did and how her mother had installed the thing. It was becoming more and more obvious that theAmerican felt the lack of parents quite keenly, especially when she was around an orphan who had found hers when she couldn't. Julie and her mother exchanged a look.

"Where are you staying over summer break?" Julie inquired of her friend.

"D'know. Under London Bridge if I've got to, though. Expatriation does sort of free one up, y'know?"

Julie smiled inwardly, knowing what could be done.

*****************************************************************

"Now try to look a little more bored than disgusted…good!" Narcissa Malfoy was in her element, giving Julie what the fifth-year secretly referred to as 'snob lessons.' "Remember never to open your eyes all the way. You've always got to look sort of half-asleep. And now _sigh."_

Julie _sigh_ed apathetically.

"Perfect. It's coming along a lot better now. I'll see you tomorrow at half-past five."

"Farewell, then," Julie yawned with a noble's artistic ennui.

"Good job! See you later!" Narcissa smiled.

Draco moved like a diligent manservant to aid the Dark Lady off her pedestal –literally. When Julie had the in-character nerve to _sigh_ again, however, he resorted to merciless tickling the instant his mum was gone.

"Merlin's ears, but you're _annoying_ when you're all stuck-up!"

"Kindly release me, varlet," Julie commanded lazily, trying to stifle a few giggles.

"Not until you knock off the character!"

"Arright, y'great lump, gerroff a' me!" 

He didn't. Julie resorted at that point to the Cobham streetrats' trick for ending a tickle fight, namely kissing her tormentor on the lips. Sure enough, he was soon putty in her hands.

"If you've done?" she asked, brushing a bit of errant blond hair out of his eyes.

"There you are, then. I knew you'd be yourself again." Draco kissed her back after making sure the dungeon classroom door was shut. 

"If by myself you mean an uncouth-"

"I mean wonderful. You're the only girl I've kissed who didn't have a permanent expression of boredom ground into her face."

"Now tha's graphic. Y'know you're the only guy I've ever kissed with nicer hands'n mine?"

"I _like_ yours better." Draco traced her asterisk scar. "Are you going t' be this cute forever, Jules?"

"Cute? Me?" she asked in disbelief, twisting and crushing an empty Browning's Best Butterbeer can into a small biscuit.

"Like that!"

"The can? That's not cute, that's just 'sperienced."

"Yeah, but I'd sure as 'ell rather have that kind of experience rather than some Ivy League pureblood chick with braces on her brains."

"You mean you like me because I'm poor, don't you?"

"Nope, you're not poor now nor were you ever, just low on money. I'm the poor one, I'm more pampered than a fat lapdog."

"You a lapdog?" Julie whistled. "Come here, puppy."

"You're also funny and sweet," Draco kissed her, "and entirely wonderful."

"Odd, I was just going to say the same thing of you, Draco."

"Mmm." The patrican professor wrapped his arms around the Dark Lady. "I love you, Julie."

The Gryffindor froze and pulled away as if he'd gone completely mad.

_"What?"_

"I love you."

Julie realized she was in over her head here. She had never expected him to say that, of all things. So she did the only thing that she could think of.

"You're mad, dear."

And with that, she was gone.

Draco sighed and glanced at the moving Christmas tree in the picture on the calendar. Five days 'til Christmas, and five months 'til America. 

He wondered if he could convince her he was serious before they left.

**************************************************** 

A/N: About the electricity, does that explain things, Ms. Greenleaf?


	39. Deck the Halls With

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Deck the Halls With…

 "Well, hope y' like the present, _chat," _Mitchie said, putting another parcel into the French girl's trunk. "Say hi t' your little brother for me."

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Chloe suddenly dove under her bed and brought forth several boxes of various sizes. Written on each was a sentence in French that clearly meant 'Do Not Open Before Christmas.' "Here, these are for you, Julie, Tom & Tim," Chloe indicated the matching pair, "Donaghan, and of course, Aldous. In fact, I'm going to go give him his now, okay?"

"Want me to take your trunk to the Common Room?"

"Merci, Mitch. I've been dreading having to lug it around."

"I suppose the packages have made it rather heavier. I'll get it out to the train platform for you." The Yank made the trunk levitate with a 'wingardium leviosa' and shoved it about like a well-oiled lawnmower. Chloe looked rather distressed by this.

"It's bad enough I can't levitate 'eavy things yet, do you have to do it in front of me?"

The trunk suddenly dropped out the air and landed on Mitchie's foot. A fairly incredible American curse word followed.

"Is something wrong?" Aldous asked, reaching Chloe's door. "Oh." He lifted the corner of the trunk up and Mitchie extricated the offended foot. "Is it broken?"

"I don't think so, just ticked off a bit."

"Maybe you'd better get it looked at, just in case." Aldous pulled a small box out of his pocket. "Chloe, this is for you."

"I'd better get this trunk out of here," Mitchie observed, tactfully leaving the Chaser and first-year alone. The instant she had the trunk in the Common Room, she let fly another American curse word and turned her wand on her foot. It seemed to her she may have just used the wrong spell on it.

"Was 'at meant t' be a Numbin' Charm?" a voice inquired from one of the fluffy chairs. "Because y' seem t' 'ave frozen y're shoelaces."

"You aren't really helping much, Donaghan."

"Oh, aren't I?" The Scot leapt out of his chair and bodily picked up the American. _"Aproxa ver! _That'll fix the pain, what'd y' do t' it?"

"I dropped Chloe's trunk on it."

"That wasn' too bright of y'."

"It wasn't intentional."

"I think I gathered 'at." Donaghan swung Mitchie under the portrait hole and out of the Common Room. "T' Madam Pomfrey's, or d'you think th'you coul' walk on it?"

"I don't think Madam Pomfrey's really necessary, and I'm supposed to be helping Chloe get her trunk downstairs."

"I'll take care of that." Donaghan opened the portrait hole and yelled into the Common Room. "Ay, Kevin?"

"Yeah?" the Keeper asked. 

"C'you 'elp Chloe get 'er trunk downstairs? 

"Sure thing. No prob."

"See?" Donaghan asked Mitchie. "Now let's get that foot looked at, m' darlin' Yank."

"I can walk, you know, Donaghan."

"But I don't want y' to, I'm goin' t' carry y'."

"Aren't I heavy?"

"No, y' aren't. Why d' girls a'ways assume that they weigh t'much?"

"It's a common neurosis of our gender, has to do with a lot of things. Julie doesn't think that she's overweight."

"Well, Julie's got ribs 'at stick out like she swallowed a cage or summat." Donaghan leaned over and kissed Mitchie. "Yeh're beautiful an' I'm entirely over her."

"I just can't help but worry you aren't, though, 'cause she's turning into one of my best friends and I'm really starting to more than just like you."

"More'n like?"

"I don't want to say 'love' in case I don't mean that."

"Would y' believe me if I said I love you, Mitch?"

"I'm not sure. It's way easier to say it than to know what it really means."

"What's love t' you?"

"Okay, not to burst into a song, y'know, but love is when you can't live without someone. Love is what makes life worth living, what you can never admit to and can never stop meaning. It's your downfall and your victory all in one."

"Y' can be awfully poetic when y' want to, Mitch."

"It's a habit."

"What could I do t' convince y' that I love y', dear?"

"I'm not sure you can," Mitchie said quietly, tears shining but refusing to finally fall. "I'm not sure I even believe in it."

"A person like y', not believe in love!"

"For god's sake, don't get all Ewan McGregor-ish!" Mitchie protested, trying her darnedest to get him to put her down.

"All _what?_ Mitchie, I d'know what you're on about, but if I 'ave t' hold on 't y' all night, I'm goin' t' tell y' 'ow I feel fin'lly!" Donaghan sat down on a stone bench and wrapped his arms around Mitchie, kissing her gently on the lips again. "Everything y'said jus' now, I understood, 'cause that's 'ow you make me feel. Whether y' believe in love or not, I think I love you, so it has to exist, then, doesn't it?"

Mitchie didn't know what else to do, so she shrugged and submitted to being kissed again. 

"Someone can cheat on you and leave you and you still believe in love?"

"Hey, yeh've jus' gone an' proved it does, 'aven't y'?" Donaghan suddenly began to very quietly almost-whisper a song: _"My boat sails stormy seas,  
Battles oceans filled with tears…"_

"What the-?"

"At last my port's in view,  
Now that I've discovered you…"

"Are you _singing?"_ Mitchie asked in complete surprise.

_"Oh, I'd give my life so lightly,  
For my gentle Lady,  
Give it freely, and completely,_

To my Lady."

That was too much. After all, Mitchie knew this song.

_"Words that you say when we're alone,"_ she countered,  
_"Though actions speak louder than words, _  
_But all I can say is I love you so,  
Drive away all my hurt…"_

_"Oh, I'd give my life so lightly,  
For my gentle Lady,  
Give it freely, and completely,  
_-y' really do love me then?"

"You know it."

And they just wound up snogging for awhile after.

******************************************************************** 

"Could you get it?" Judy asked Professor McGonagall. 

"Yes, I've got three of them." She held up the necklaces.

"Great!" Harry cried gleefully. "Here's my Invisibility Cloak."

"And here are the potions," Marguerite Weasley said.

Fred, Jaquie, George, Marguerite, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Judy, and Professor McGonagall were all preparing a bit of a surprise. Fred and George supplied a lovely non-exploding box containing two suits of their best Shrinking Clothes, Ginny and Judy drew up a detailed map, and Ron enchanted a glass marble into a Portkey. Marguerite had brewed a Geriatrum Potion and her sister a Juvenilum Potion, and Harry lent his beloved invisibility cloak. Professor McGonagall, whose idea this all had been, supervised the plans with the greatest amount of anticipation of them all.

Just as they were about to put everything together and wrap it up, Dumbledore arrived with his contribution: a camera loaded with wizard film and several extra rolls of it.

"Invisible flash," he reported. "Noone will notice it."

******************************************************************** 

"What was in that?" Draco asked Julie cautiously, looking at the two bottles of butterbeer. "It's got kind of a weird aftertaste, like… where did you get this from?"

"Why, I had Tom and Tim-" Julie suddenly realized it was likely spiked. "Oh, shoot!"

"Spiked?"

"Likely."

"With what?"

"I d'know. Last time they spiked my drink it was Terpsichora, but-"

"Isn't that what they messed up before?"

"Yeah, that's what scares me. It might be something even worse."

"Maybe we should go inside if we're going to sing and all."

They were sitting on one of the tower tops in their winter coats watching other students build snow animals as more of it fell down. Hagrid was helping some first-years build a great big snow unicorn, holding up the midsection while they strengthened the legs with snow, and there was a dark-robed shape that looked very suspiciously like Professor Longbottom decorating the snowy bushes. As a little snowflake melted on the back of Julie's neck, she shivered, and suddenly Draco's arm was around her shoulders. "Come on inside. You're freezing."

"I am not."

"You are. Come with me." Draco tickled her ear and Julie obeyed at last. 

"Your place?" Her voice betrayed the slight suspicion she'd had ever since he'd mentioned actually loving her.

"Well, how 'bout yours, Jules?"

"Uh, wouldn't that look just a little strange?"

"Not if I look like your pet, it won't." Draco caught hold of Julie's coat pocket and transformed, still hanging on as he became a pure white ferret. Julie helped him into the pocket and patted him.

"Alright, dear." She headed toward the Gryffindor portrait hole. On her way, she saw Chloe leaving for Christmas break and stopped to chat awhile and to go with her to the door, and then she overheard Donaghan and Mitchie singing off in one of the corridors and eavesdropped a bit, then she found herself a mite cold and decided to change her clothes, having forgotten entirely about her pocket's passenger. 

She remembered when she opened her door and saw the Castle of Ferretage. Julie put her hand in her pocket, only to discover her Draco was sound asleep. Moving over to her bed, she gently picked him up and put him on her pillow before taking off her coat. It was a remarkably nice coat compared to her old beat-up purple one, not full-length, but it actually fit her, which was good, and it had both Slytherin and Gryffindor colors entwined in the fuzzy tartan. In fact, she dimly suspected her father had had some advice from Headmistress McGonagall as to where to find a perfect plaid. The only genuine oddity was the mismatched mittens on a string that had been on the hanger with it, for while Julie could understand a green mitten for her sinister side and a red one for her right, the idea of having a string was just a little…well, unusual, for someone turning sixteen soon. But hey, anything to keep her from losing them. Mittens were easy things to misplace when one suddenly had more than two outfits.

Julie pulled a soft scrap of fabric from her bedside drawer and placed it over her sleeping boyfriend/ferret. He looked so sweet and innocent lying there that she gave him a gentle kiss on the head before picking up the Potions apron she was making for her mum. It had been hell and a half finding a big enough piece of dragonhide that wasn't entirely rough to the touch, but as usual her friends Tom and Tim had come and bailed her out with the address of their uncle and aunt in Romania. As it happened, there was an especially old dragon who had recently gone on to heat the great furnace in the sky, and for only five Galleons the Charlie Weasleys had sent Julie a rather overlarge piece of surprisingly soft dragonhide. 

She had had rather a lot of leftover, enough to attempt a new pair of matching gloves to go with the apron she was making, and with a little aid from Draco she had gotten them done easily. Julie grinned as she remembered talking him into tracing around her mother's hand onto a bit of parchment. He had gone a little overkill with his 'plausible explanation,' returning outlines of the hands of most of the faculty in addition to her mother. In the unlikely event of her expulsion from Hogwarts, Julie reasoned, she could do rather well as a glovemaker. 

Small, intricate things suited her very well, things like forgery and unusual-font design. She had always liked to design all the characters of one font for the English alphabet, for despite being very good at handwriting with her left, Julie couldn't draw pictures to save her life. In fact, the one time her art teacher had assigned pen-and-ink drawings, she had only passed the assignment by choosing an open copy of _'Les Miserables'_ as her model. She had used a ruler to make the edges of the book, cadged the rough, dog-eared corners as best she could, and then painstakingly copied every fourteen-point Adobe Garamond letter of the two hundred fifty-seventh page.

'Ah, well,' she thought contentedly, continuing her merry work of present wrapping. Spellotape had insisted on sticking to her fingertips, and she had therefore decided to stick to the Muggles' Scotch tape, no pun intended. It occurred to Julie that she hadn't even used her old Muggle stereo since the start of Dark Lady lessons, so she went over and placed the needle tentatively on the spinning disc. There was a small Arthurian Transformer installed near the baseboard, as this was a room typically given to Muggle-born Gryffindors. 

To Julie's rather unpleasant shock, the record was one she didn't recognize. Since the first song was fast and rather loud, she had to move quickly to turn it down, only to recognize the lead vocalist's voice. Hastily she removed the needle and looked at the label on the LP.

"Good _lord,"_ she breathed. It was the latest Moody Blues album, and how anyone had gotten hold of one on vinyl was beyond her wits. And then she noticed Wormtail's note.

The rat's paw signature was easy enough to recognize. For a split second she was tempted to take the record and smash it on the bedpost, but it occurred to her it would bend before it would break and probably wake Draco up in the process. Ah, well. She returned the suspicious item to it's sleeve and put it alongside her other ones. She figured the best thing to do would be to turn it in to Headmistress McGonagall to be checked out. 'And then," she smiled, 'she might wind up liking it.'

A soft purry squeak interrupted her. It was Anthony. Julie took out the brown and white creature and petted him, before he 'eaked' to be put on the bed next to the white ferret. Figuring it wouldn't do any harm, (and being rather curious to see what would happen,) Julie placed Anthony on the pillow next to Draco. Her dear little pet sniffed the newcomer cautiously and then placed a paw on his shoulder.

Had Julie been able to speak ferretish, that gesture translated to 'sleep well, mate of my keeper.' Ferretish being an intensely subtle language of 'eaks,' 'squeaks' and ear twitches, however, Julie could no more speak it than she could the language of unicorns. Anthony's little gesture of acceptance, however, made her feel a lot better about a lot of things. She patted both ferrets for a little while, being careful not to wake Draco up, before writing a note and instructing Anthony not to bother their sleeping guest. The note was very simple and to-the-point:

'Dear Draco,  
I've gone downstairs to the Great Hall to meet Mum and Dad. When you wake up, come down through the Cage and then up from your room, as if you needed to be told.   
-J.S.'

She kissed him gently again and departed in relative haste. Christmas Eve was tomorrow night and she had work to do.

*********************************************************************** 

A/N: I felt I might as well give you a preview of the next two chapter titles, as they're pretty much written, but on paper, and I have to type them out. Forty is 'Boughs of Holly,' and Forty-One is 'Journey to the Crystal Ward.' In other recent news, my dear boyfriend has just discovered fanfiction, but refuses to tell me his penname and has forgotten mine. Oh, and there's a new McNeville called Chelsey, she's a friend we seem to have adopted into the Freakish Clan. I don't know when or if she, Sheri, Kylie and Xander posted anything, but they're all my equally-eccentric relatives. Someone wrote me an email asking what I looked like, and while I can't really tell you due to safety reasons, the physical description of Mitchie minus the wolfiness is close enough. Aldous is based on brother Xander physically, should one wonder, and Chloe is a combination of m'sister Ky and the little dear I babysit sometimes. The way Julie and Mitchie get along is a dead-on of how Teva Arsen and I get along, with Kylie filling in the Chloe role. So much for emails asking me where I get my ideas. A very merry last day of school to all of you, ours was last Friday.

Next chapter in a day or so!

-J. McN.


	40. Boughs of Holly

Chapter Forty: Boughs of Holly

The Great Hall always looked fabulous, but decorated for Christmas it was something to behold. Julie had never seen ornaments so shining and beautiful outside of Harrod's department store, and certainly never Christmas trees quite so tall. On closer inspection of the golden balls and silver garlands, however, it appeared that these were as magical as anything she'd seen at school. High above her head, she noticed Professor Flitwick levitating to put the star on the highest tree; curious, until she realized her parents both had their wands pointed at him, looks of intense concentration on their faces. 

Rather than distract them and risk killing her professor, Julie took a seat at the Gryffindor table and reversed her chair to watch. Hannah Stern appeared a few moments later.

"Pretty good, isn't it?" she inquired.

"Does all of this Christmas stuff bother you?" Julie asked, knowing Hannah was one of perhaps five Jewish students at Hogwarts.

"Hey, it's a holiday same as any other one. I just don't happen to go in for the religious bit. It's not like there aren't plenty agnostics here who celebrate it just for kicks."

Julie looked a little confused by this. Broughton had been a fairly parochial orphanage, funded by the local Anglican church in addition to the government, and consequently, none of the 'foundlings' had the chance to grow up Jewish. If there had been four Jews there, it was because they had no living family, and most often they tended to remain in  a small group apart to themselves. 

"Look, you respect Hanukkah, don't you, Jules? I respect Christmas the same way as that. It's not my religious cup of tea, but far be it for me to disrespect those for whom it is."

"I can understand that."

"It was nice of you to get my work while I left, by the way. Now Mama and Papa have gone on their second honeymoon, I'm stayin' here for winter holidays."

Hannah had missed eight days of school to observe Hannukah with her family, and a simple duplication charm on Tom, Tim and Julie's notes had provided an excellent guide to everything any professor taught. Mitchie and Lucy had offered theirs as well, but Lucy's were in indefinable shorthand and Mitchie's were positively illegible. 

"I'll be here until the day after Christmas, then Mum an' Dad an' I are going home for awhile."

"Will you be here for New Year's?"

"I think."

"That's always been the answer in my family to the Christmas-card controversy."

"Controversy? Which-?"

"Well, my Christian relatives are never sure whether to send us Christmas cards or Hanukkah ones, and we were never sure which to send to them. Now we just do New Year's ones on both sides."

"Hmm. That sounds like my Slytherin/Gryffindor problem."

"Yeah, you should just stick to the Hogwarts crest."

"Good idea."

At that moment, a loud bang interrupted everything going on. Professor Flitwick fell forty feet or so through the open air into Hagrid's arms, and Julie's Mum nearly fainted from the shock of it. Professor Snape was hugging her in seconds, though, as if tuned like a radio to any small thing wrong with his family. Julie knew what was going on, of course, but nobody else in the room was aware of the Granger-Snapes' announcement, as they weren't planning to tell anyone until Christmas Day. 

Noone could tell what had made the loud noise to distract everyone. 

The situation was soon righted, however, and Hannah and Julie went up to the Christmas trees to see their professors.

"Are you alright, Mum?" Julie asked a little quietly.

"Yes, dear. Just a little shock from the noise, you know."

"What was that?"

"I think I have an idea," Professor Snape observed grimly, stalking out of the Great Hall as if there might be some threat to his wife and child. 

Hermione and Julie talked absently about the decorations and how they had gotten there with Hannah for awhile until Severus returned with a house-elf literally in his hand as he held it up by the scruff of it's neck. 

"Apologize!" he commanded it.

"I- I-" the creature stuttered.

"Oh, give it up!" Ignoring his wife's horrified stare, Severus pulled his wand from his robes and pointed it at the house-elf. _"Finite Incantatem!"_

The elf transformed immediately into Lyff Grudgett.

"Detention, and ninety points from Slytherin."

The entire Hall went silent, staring in shock at Professor Snape. He had never taken that many house points from anyone at once, least to say one of his Slytherins. Professor Potter's jaw looked entirely detached by this and Hagrid's beard had suddenly gotten much closer to the ground as well.

Finally, someone had the good sense to react properly:

"Well said, sir," Hannah observed with a cheery grin. 

***************************************************** 

Mitchie staggered into the Great Hall with one foot still feeling a little odd. She had indeed splintered one tarsus minor, or as Madam Pomfrey called it, a not-very-important bone. With it newly mended, though, Mitchie's left foot suddenly felt a little bit on the cheerful side, double-stepping and tingling a bit more than she could hide easily. 

Dinner had already been served to the few students who were staying over Christmas holidays, and instead of the four House tables, there was now one big one with all present faculty and students eating together. Mitchie felt a small sting to see the three Snapes chatting with Julie's extended 'honorary family.' It was immediately followed by guilt for all of her jealousy of her new friend.

'Besides,' the sensibly irrational part of her mind announced, 'she can't play the guitar and you can.'

"Mitch!" Julie called, brightening at the sight of her friend the Yank. "Come sit with us!"

It was remarkable how thirty minutes could make one feel like an installed fixture in someone's family. Mitchie figured her friend might do something of this sort, and while part of her resented being made a charity case for some showoff Dark Lady; another part was very relieved not to be spending Christmas Eve by herself yet again. 

And Donaghan was being so tactful around them both, treating Julie as a Chaser would a good Seeker and Mitchie as a Gryffindor would his girlfriend around teachers. True, that was pretty much the same way, except one did not seem physically attached to a Seeker's hand under the table as one did to one's girlfriend and one did not defend a Seeker as instantly as one did one's girlfriend when Professor Snape made cracks about both girls' classroom attributes. 

"Really, if I could _understand_ three words of what Miss Tyler says when I call on her in class," Snape joked laconically, "I might not have to give her such abysmal marks."

"Isn' it true tha' Mitch's 'ad full marks since she showed up, sir?" Donaghan inquired rather pointedly. Julie sprang up as well to defend her classmate.

"Yes, and we can understand her perfectly. Perhaps you should ask Madam Pomfrey to check you for senile deafness, _sir."_

"I hardly think," Snape observed with a glare, "someone who failed to _alarm_ her spider when she tested the Tarantallegra Curse would have any room to talk whatsoever about people with bad accents. If you didn't sound so strongly like a refugee from bloody Cornwall I might have a better time understanding _you."_

"Perhaps having a voice with entirely variable pitch is a genetic thing," Julie replied just a bit acidly. "After all, one can hardly fault a girl whose father sounds like a football referee when a Gryffindor screws somethin' up and bleedin'Saint Francis when the Slytherins bodge it worse. It may be just my natural bias against over-posh people that makes me talk like a Cockney snipe."

"Talkin' 'bout bias," Mitchie chipped in. "Have you ever seen a more two-ended class roster? An' I thought the rednecks back 'ome were bad."

"I find it astonishing, Miss Tyler, that you would even refer to your clearly detested nation as 'back home.' It seems to me that you are the stiffest Tory since Benedict Arnold."

"Damn straight," Mitchie said. 

It was such a novelty for anyone to agree with Professor Snape during an insult contest that everyone who had been following the spat cracked up, including Matius Flint, who suddenly grew a weird half-smile. Professor Snape looked fairly well amused by this and shook hands with the American in truce. Julie grinned. Everything was going perfectly.

"Would anyone care for some more capon?" Professor McGonagall inquired. Several people indicated they would, and Lyfften, dressed in what looked like an overgrown oven mitt, walked around, glumly working off his detention as a human elf. To make matters worse for him, the real house-elves felt threatened by his presence, and many kicked him in the shins or tried to trip him as he did his job. If not for the fact that Grudgett was about as liked as Draco Malfoy had been at school by the non-Slytherins, noone would have let Professor Snape impose such a harsh, if not dead bizarre, punishment. This became a very enjoyed topic of conversation, with references to the Magna Carta provided by Hermione and the American Bill of Rights by Mitchie as the entire table referred to Lyff as if he were a an object and not a human being at all. Finally Julie rationalized it with a somewhat off-color remark about Grudgett's oven mitt entertaining the females there, and the poor Slytherin left with his cheeks flaming.

"Dear, just what did Lyfften Grudgett do to tick you off?" Hermione inquired. "Genetics are not an excuse for being cruel, you know."

"I'll bet this is," Malfoy said, tossing Hermione the tabloid written by the Blodgetts and Grudgett weeks ago. "I've already put a good amount of fear into them, but if you feel they could use more, then, by all means, have at it."

"What the bugger-?" Professor Granger exclaimed, reading over the ludicrous tripe stories. "I'd have punished them for their punctuation alone, Draco! And the _spelling,_ Merlin's ears, this is terrible."

"Let me see," Severus asked, taking a look at the work of the Slytherins. To the chagrin of nearly everyone else present, he began first to smile, then to giggle, and then finally to laugh out loud as he read over the articles. Julie leaned on her elbow and sighed.

"Which is it, Dad?"

"Oh, it's the inept innuendoes they keep sadly miswielding, dear. I don't think it's altogether likely you fancy _Hagrid,_ now, though I may be wrong." Both Julie's Defense Against The Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures teachers began to laugh, so she gave Hagrid a very Mae West-ish look.

"Oh, I d'know, Dad, I'd never considered it. Always been partial to taller guys, 'ent that right, Mitch?"

Hagrid blushed furiously red and Professor Snape's jaw almost detached, but Professor Malfoy found that the funniest thing all night.

"Considering the persistent rumors about you liking Flitwick, though, I don't think that'd be much in character for you, Jules," the arrogant blond said a bit too gallantly. Julie's cheeks burned.

"Must you call me that? My name's not that hard, you know."

"Ah, the blush of the guilty, eh, Beatrice?"

"Well, better a gentleman like Professor Flitwick than a stuffed-shirt, overbearing, ultra-snobbish, _pureblood_ like you, Malfoy!" Julie raked, looking progressively more like her dad as she got angrier.

"Astounding you can call me 'pureblood,' Jules, considering your parents are both wizards, you've been told that, right?"

"Better an ignorant Muggle-raised than a upper-class product of the Serpents' Den."

"Better a rich wizard than a poor gutter-snipe."

"Better a penniless Muggle than a bourgeois narcissist."

"Better a bourgeois than an untrained, uncouth, unladylike, unlikeable, unbearable, and entirely overgrown little Gryffindor with more vocabulary than she's got brains."

"Amazing, the ferret can alliterate."

"Astounding, the baggage knows her ancient history."

"Why didn't I start an insulting club?" Judy asked hypothetically, watching Draco and Julie sting with unabashed delight. "This is better than a play, do go on, you two."

"I think not," Professor Snape said, a moderately displeased grin on his face. "The table isn't that wide and I fear Draco may find his face scratched and Julia find herself shoved should we permit this little fight to go on unhindered. Would both of you kindly _sit down_ and try to get through the meal in peace?"

"Yes, professor," the two miscreants mumbled in unison like two little first-years who had gotten caught arguing. Kenny and his father were both developing fairly strong fits of the giggles over this.

"Has anyone heard what's become of Peter Pettigrew?" Mitchie asked, trying not to burst into laughter at Julie and her 'snoggie's charade as well.

"He is in custody at Gringott's, of all places," Professor Snape announced with a sordid look. "The goblins have him in a reasonably large and particularly secure converted vault, with bars installed on the door so that the rat can breathe."

"Y'mean they've put him in a bank vault, sir?" Donaghan asked.

"Yes, a very smelly one with no compound interest," the harsh Professor jested rather cheerfully. "I'm told he has a bed and a chair, and- well, facilities, and I have it on good authority they remember to feed him every so often."

"Then he's been found guilty?" Julie asked.

"Not yet, his trial's in January," her father said. "He'll probably be living there for life, though, now, as _some_ people are opposed to the death penalty."

"I find that the death penalty tends to create rather bitter ghosts," Nearly Headless Nick observed, floating through the wall and startling everyone. He was resplendent in a black and white striped doublet and grinning so brightly one might not realize he was dead. "Ah, just the students I was hoping to see tonight!" The present Gryffindor Quidditch boys looked awfully confused as the ghost made the effort to shake their hands. Julie shot them the eyebrow, though, and they didn't let on they didn't know what was going on. "Refereeing the Headless Hunt will be so perfectly wonderful, I can't tell you enough what your recommendation means!"

The identical minute the cheery House ghost was gone, the two Beaters, and two of the Chasers gave Julie an inquisitive look. Professor McGonagall noticed this and made a note with her quill on some parchment.

"Twenty-_three_ counts of forgery, Miss Starcatcher," she announced calmly with a sort of severe smile. "In the future, please try to calm that clever pen."

"They were at Hogsmeade!" Julie protested.

"There's no punishment. If anything this resembles one or more of the times your mother broke the rules for purely benevolent reasons."

Mitchie had not worn glasses all her life for nothing, it was clear that Julie was blinking for a reason, now. Inwardly she smiled at how the headmistress had praised her friend, and reflected that perhaps it might be a good idea to ask Minister Dumbledore what her parents had been like. If only she had had just a year with them, or a day more, or an hour she could perhaps recall…

She was so absorbed in her thoughts of what might-have-been that she barely noticed when dinner ended. As it was Christmas Eve, the entire crowd of teachers and students who were staying over break gathered around the tree by the big fireplace. 

There was an abundance of large, overstuffed furniture, very similar to the kind in the Gryffindor Common Room, only instead of red chairs there were big blue ones and huge couches, even a particularly large chair with a back about level with Mitchie's head; most likely Professor Hagrid's, she surmised. Kenny Longbottom climbed on his father's lap and the two little Potter twins fell asleep on their mum and dad. Mitchie liked Mrs. Potter a lot so far, and her Flying professor was one of her three favorites. Professor Hagrid was about to sit down when he realized there was a big orange cat on his chair.

"Aw, come now, Crookshanks, there's a good kitty," he coaxed, but the cat just gave him a rather offended look. "Please?"

"'Allo, Crookie," Julie said, patting the orange cat on the head. "Come sit wi' me awhile," she offered. 

Crookshanks purred and leapt from the chair and then onto Professor Granger's lap.

"I didn't know y' had a cat, Julie," Mitchie said.

"Crookshanks is Mum's, my big brother happens to be a cat."

"That's right, Julie," Professor Snape said, "Crookshanks is older than you are."

"But he's not gray or stiff at all," Mitchie observed.

"Youth potion to fix his arthritis, dear. Physically he's about nine, but chronologically he's much older than Julie, I'd say about twenty-three." Professor Granger stroked the large cat from his head to his bushy tail. "You know, with the dogs and the rodents and Crookshanks, Sev, we've got more pets than people in this family."

"Excuse me, but ferrets are not rodents," Malfoy protested. "They are noble and elegant carnivores, prized for their intelligence and beauty in all circles."

"If not for the fact tht I'm a ferret enthusiast, you would be heartily laughed at, you know, Draco." Julie stretched her arm and patted him condescendingly on the head, the effect sadly marred by the fact that he was about half a foot taller than she was. Still, short as she was, Mitchie knew she was the only Hogwarts student who could get away with calling a professor by his first name.

"If not for the fact that you are my friends' daughter, you would be smirked at and called undergrown, you know." Draco observed fairly nastily.

"This from the fellow who called her overgrown at dinnertime! Heavens, but the race must be improving fast!" Mitchie couldn't help chipping in.

"This from the Yank who doesn't know her own race!"

"This from th' ferret wi' straighter teeth n' thoughts!"

"This from the Scot we can barely understand!"

"This from the rich boy with more money than God and absolutely perfect hair!"

Everyone was stunned as the three Gryffindors turned on their professor, but Julie's last insult went a little bit awry:

"Why, thank you, Julie," Malfoy answered, kissing her. 

Mitchie and Donaghan cracked up entirely.

"We were wonderin' which of y'd notice first!"

The wolves had been deftly maneuvering the Seekers under the mistletoe. The look of utter shock from Julie sent them into literal howls of laughter.

_"Puppies_, Mitch," she said smoothly, in a steely imitation of her father's angry tone. "Leashes and chew toys and milk-bones and _kibble!"_

"My, but somebody's angry," Professor Snape observed.

"And Donaghan, surely you know who Baldur is?" Julie inquired rather acidly, indicating the mistletoe. The Scotwolf shrugged.

"Naw, he's not got a drop of Norse blood in him, poor Scot," Draco said. "Baldur was an immortal killed with an arrow of mistletoe."

"Yes, Gildy, and you'll be next," Julie said, flipping Draco's blond ponytail as she tried to get away. Professor Granger gasped in amazement at her daughter's choice of insult. 

Professor Malfoy caught Julie by the wrist and pulled her back.

_"What_ did you call me?"

"You heard me."

"Well, seeing as you've come back, then," he said, kissing her again. 

Even Professor McGonagall was having a high old time watching the two of them square off, especially as a calm, suave Malfoy was taking out a very temperamental Granger-Snape. It finally occurred to Julie that this was what was amusing them, and so she abruptly changed horses in midriver:

"Hmm, you really _are_ a rich dessert," she observed in her best salacious Dark Lady voice before kissing Draco to within an inch of his life. Every jaw in the room –besides, well, her Draco's, dropped.

For a second the entire castle was silent in abject shock, until the ever-loyal Mitchie burst into hysterical laughter. A few Professors, not including Julie's parents or honorary uncles, joined in as well, and finally everyone but Severus was cracking up.

"I win," Julie said cheerfully.

******************************************************** 

The cloaked figure on the black horse rode up to the cave shrine and dismounted. Despite having followers and loyal peasants enough to pave a road, he had elected to spend _los noctes de vigilia_ alone. He had been born Josè Garcia y Rodriguez in 1985, but in two thousand eighteen he had the name of Santa Anna de Diablo.

Privately he didn't like his new name much. De diablo –the devil, seemed just a little inappropriate for what he had in mind. Santa Anna was perfectly alright, after the general who had been victorious leading the armies of los mestizos and la españards until those cursed Americans cornered him. 

Now there was a wrong name, Americans. It was named for Amerigo Vespucci, an Italian of all things, who had never even visited the New World. Better to call the new land by real names like Mexico and Tenochtitlàn. And those Anglo bastards weren't real Americans, the Sioux, Inca and Aztecs they slaughtered were Americans. Josè despised Anglo-Americans. He hated Germans, too, and English, and Danes, and Belgians, but none more than the Anglo-Americans. 

Once inside the cave, he drew two long black tapers from his vest and lit them. With an ornate obsidian knife he slit his own thumbs and let the blood of his heart drip into the stained clay pot below. When it had enough, he tore some of his own straight black hair out and bound it to a short stick –his wand.

Using this as a brush and his own blood as ink, Josè painted his ambitions on the flattest part of the cave wall:

'Muertè à Blancos, muertè à Nazis. Muertè à Blancos, muertè à Nazis…'

After writing his dream in Spanish exactly thirteen times, he drew a swastika below him between his feet. Rising from his crouch, the wizard shook his hair from his wand and incinerated the despised symbol of death and hate and worthless Anglos' supremacy with a single word. 

It was vengeance he craved, above all things.

The arcane part of his Christmas worship done, Josè went outside and selected a small pine tree. He couldn't bear to sever such a perfect thing from its stump, so he decorated it with his wand outdoors in the rain. He went then to his horse and took the four packages from his saddlebags, perfectly wrapped, slightly dingy and aged Christmas parcels. Josè placed them tenderly beneath the tree, whispering the name of their long-dead recipients in the childish hope that one day they'd open them:

"Mami, Papi, Juan, Esperanza." Over and over he whispered the names, until he eventually fell asleep next to the little tree. By morning he would be the enemy of the Estados Unidos again, but for tonight he was just an orphaned little boy.

Across the sea his greatest nemesis slept as well.

*********************************************************** 

A/N: Well, how's that, everyone? Is everything coming together well? By the way, I suggest you remember everything Draco researched at the library, plus everything he got at Borgin & Burkes afterward. Also, one must _never_ forget the suspenders, O Best Beloved. (Sorry! Had to babysit again and OD'd on Kipling!) If anyone can tell me where Donaghan and Mitchie's song came from, who wrote it, who performed it, what album it is from, I will personally submit to their command on any plot issue. (So if seeing Sevvie and Draco tap-dance is your cup of tea, I suggest you research your old rock lyrics.) There! Now I have an in-story challenge, just like Ms. Hilt does.

Reviews for Thumper bunny and Sparky gerbil, the plot animals?

-Jan McNeville 


	41. Journey to the Crystal Ward

A/N: Somebody sent an email asking me what Mitchie, Julie, and Chloe's favorite songs were. I actually considered that when I designed their characters, so here are the answers:

Julie: 'I Am a Rock' by Simon & Garfunkel  
Mitchie: 'Someone To Watch Over Me' by Ira and George Gershwin  
Chloe: 'I Never Do Anything Twice' by Stephen Sondheim

And yes, I know Chloe's a smutbunny. Hope this helps to explain how the Three Witches operate.

Chapter Forty-One: Journey to the Crystal Ward

Julie shook her head and looked around. It took a second for the import of the date to register. Christmas Day and not a little Broughton kid jumping on her in sight. She got out of bed and immediately tossed another log in the fireplace. To her delight, there was snow falling outside her windowpane; a glorious white Christmas with her real family! She sighed with joy and then shivered with cold as she stepped a little closer to the fireplace.

In retrospect, that was a bad move, as was her parents' forgetting to tell her about Floo powder.

Her father leapt out of the fireplace and brushed himself off, startling a year off his daughter's life before turning to help his wife out very gentlemanly. 

"Happy Christmas, Julie," he remarked with a grin as he realized just how high she had jumped.

"Er, um, uh, what –happy Christmas, Dad."

"Floo powder, it's how wizards get around." Her mum looked more cheerful than Julie had ever seen, if that was possible. "Happy Christmas."

"But I thought…don't you-all Apparate?"

"Not on school grounds we don't," her father said. "And technically, Floo powder isn't supposed to work between students' rooms either, but this _particular_ room was modified years ago."

"And again with the not-appropriate details, Dad!" Julie protested, guessing correctly that this had been her mother's room.

"Oh, don't worry, I don't mean by me, Julie. After the war, it was felt necessary to check on your mother during the night, having been kidnapped and ill as she was, you see. It was _Albus'_ idea to connect it to my rooms downstairs."

"Why am I not surprised by that in the slightest?" Hermione asked. "He's just about as bad as Minerva is."

"Well, it was my idea not to have the Floo channel shut down, dear. I figured at least one of ours would be a Gryffindor, as _nauseating_ as that idea still is, you know."

Julie watched her parents talk amiably for a few moments as they had evidently again forgotten her presence. It was so lovely when they did that, just like real normal parents did sometimes. The might have continued indefinitely with her as audience had not a knock interrupted them.

"Who could that be?" Severus asked his daughter.

"Mitch, of course."

"Oh."

Sure enough, the Yank was there with a six-pack of 'breakfast' in her overstretched hand, evidently awake solely by the saving grace of caffiene.

"Merry Christmas!" she greeted amiably.

"Happy Christmas, Yank," Professor Snape answered her. 

For a moment Mitchie looked particularly stunned at being addressed so kindly by the terrifying and unlikeable Professor, but then the buzz of four thorn sodas kicked back in.

"Consigliori," Julie acknowledged her foreign friend. "Incominciam."

"Tocciam, amigue mio," Mitchie answered, both of them speaking Italian. Sodas were passed around and opened as if they were champagne by all four people. "Tocciamo!"

"L'chaim!"

"Skaal!"

"Uh, cheers, I guess."

Everyone drank. The grownups, completely unused to the taste of thorn soda, almost choked on the over-carbonated stuff. After a second they discovered the aftertaste, and bizarrely enough, Professor Snape seemed to like the stuff.

"So, Julie, gonna get out their presents now?" Mitchie inquired.

"Oh, yeah!" The Seeker dove under her bed and began to pull boxes and parcels out. Just as she had gotten out the very last present, she looked out from under the bed and was completely surprised.

Somehow a Christmas tree had grown itself in her room.

Her parents were smiling mysterious and giddy smiles, and poor Mitchie looked just as shocked as Julie was. It loooked a little like the pictures in books of Christmas trees, with presents heaped underneath as if to keep the tree from falling down.  It occurred to Julie that the orphanage trees had looked a bit like this, except this one had magical ornaments, and this heap of presents would not be divided between two hundred and fifty kids. 

For a moment Julie wondered just how rich her parents were. Muggles didn't really pay teachers well, but maybe wizards did things a bit differently. She had no idea what to do, so she just picked up the presents she had for her mum and dad and handed them to them. 

"Uh, here…uh, the tree, it looks really great."

"A little gobsmacked, there, aren't you, Julie?" the Yank inquired. "I'd best go see if Don's up yet."

"Hold on, Tyler," Professor Snape growled. 

Mitchie went absolutely white at that address. 

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Catch!"

A package thumped Mitchie in the chest. Julie recoved her powers of speech.

"Startled, Mitch?" Julie asked. They loved switching slangs. A package thumped Julie in the chest as well.

"Okay, do we open them on three?" Mitchie asked.

"Sure."

They counted aloud and then pulled off the paper.  Noone noticed or cared that the minute the paper came off Julie's presents it turned back into newspaper. Severus was absolutely elated by the black patch shirt, Hermione insisted on trying on the dragon-hide potions apron, and Julie sent the practice Snitch flying all around the room. All three Snapes were having a very good time there, until Julie noticed Mitchie was sitting silently in the corner.

"Mitch? What's wrong?"

The American sighed and held up the present Professor Snape had thrown. Julie realized instantly what her folks had done. 

The Ministry of Magic kept case files on every maneuver the Aurors made, as well as personnel files on everyone who worked for them. In addition to all Ministry records of Mitchie's parents, Severus had also sent owls to the case photographer and textual commentator who'd helped to catalogue the Riddle house. What the small book basically amounted to was the overseas Auror careers of John and Cassandra Tyler, with plenty of amusing pictures and anecdotal stories. Apparently Mitchie's parents had been pranksters in spite of everything, and the first picture was of a handsome man who rather resembled John Lennon with glasses and a reddish-brownhaired lady kissing him on the cheek. 

Julie remembered the way it had felt to discover just which of your parents you looked like and recognized that Mitchie was feeling it now. There wasn't much you could say in that circumstance, but Professor Granger seemed to have a grip on it.

"Julie mentioned you didn't have a place to stay over the summer."

"Uh, yeah, I hadn't really considered where I'd go…I guess I'll find someplace."

"You know, though, if you're under eighteen you still qualify for foster parents, dear."

_"No way!_ I came to bloody England to escape those gits!"

"And you're picking up the accent awfully well, you know." Professor Snape took a seat in one of the armchairs and continued to examine his new patch shirt. "Before we discovered we had Julie, her mother and I applied to keep foster children. I believe we're next in line, as I didn't think to take us off the list."

"What do you think, Michelle?"

"Of what?"

"Staying with us over the summers, of course, Tyler."

"Is that why you called me Consigliori, Jules?" the Yank asked with a curious smile.

"Leave the gun, take the cannoli," her friend answered. 

"I knew showing you American flicks was wrong," Mitchie remarked, grinning. "Do I have a choice about the whole foster-parent thing?"

"Well, there's also Alastor Moody, or the Bulstrodes might take you in," Professor Snape said a bit too laconically. "I think we might be the safest in terms of what chores you'll be assigned."

"Yeah, I usually get to brush Crookshanks and label the vials for Mum."

"Okay, if you guys don't mind an' all."

"Mind? It would be very good to have you, Tyler. In fact, I have been fearing the outcome of the mission to America less since I found out you would be involved." The usually forbidding professor smiled a little bit. "The most encouraging thing, however, was finding you are almost exactly like your parents."

************************************************************ 

"So this is Judy!" Mrs. Weasley cried, hugging her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law. "Ron's told us so much about you, it's so nice to meet you at last!"

"It's –er, nice to m-meet you too."

There are few things in life more nerve-wracking than meeting your fiance's parents. 

"Hello, Judy, I'm Ron's father," the tall, balding man announced, shaking Judy's hand. "Ron tells us you're a Mug- a drama teacher."

Alright, this would be easier. Arthur Weasley's interest in Muggles was legendary.

"Yes, sir, that's right. I'm a Muggle."

"Really?" he exclaimed quite ecstatically. "I'm just absolutely fascinated by Muggle things. Is this your watch?"

"Oh, yes." Judy took off the watch and opened the back. "Here's where the battery goes and the gears are in this white part here."

"How fascinating! The battery's so small."

"I've been wondering, how do those transformers work? We've been using one almost every day in the drama club."

"Oh, well, the transformer's really not such a hard idea, it's just a small catalyst…"

And that was that. Soon Judy and Arther were engaged in an animated conversation about Muggle and wizard technology, mostly shop-talk about how a Muggle theatrical lighting system could be replicated, operated, or replaced by magic. Mrs. Weasley looked a little surprised that Judy and her husband had hit it off so fast, but seemed perfectly happy to interrogate her children about other things.

That is, until babies Lily and Hermione were brought in on the shoulders of their cousins. Molly recognized her grandson Timothy well enough, but the black-haired stranger with the white lock she had never seen. Just then, small Hermione tugged one of Julie's ears, and the Seeker's head was pulled to make her face visible. Professor Snape was already talking with Ron near where Molly was, and the sound his daughter made distracted him a little bit:

"Eee-yi! Let go my ear, baby."

"I see that your small cousin thinks your ears aren't long enough, daughter," Severus observed, lifting the child off Julie's shoulders. He gave little Hermione a querulous look. "I ought to take points off from Gryffindor, Miss Potter." The baby merely smiled and made happy noise at him. Just about everyone in the room found this funny. "Go to your grandma then, Miss Potter." Severus handed the baby to Molly.

"Finally found a child you can't intimidate?" she inquired jokingly. 

"Two, actually, this is my daughter."

"Hello," Julie greeted the kind lady nervously.

"Aren't you the image of your mother at school, though, dear? I practically expect to see Ron and Harry next to you. I'm Molly Weasley, by the way, as if it wasn't perfectly obvious."

"Oh, Uncle Ron and Aunt Ginny's mum. I've heard a lot about you."

"Yes, I'd expect you would. You probably get this a lot, but you do look like your parents, dear." Molly kept looking from Julie to Severus and back, trying her best to restrain giggles. The idea of little Sevvie Snape having a child was somewhat incredible, though, true, not as incredible as her son's best friend's having a daughter nearly sixteen years old. The details had been reasonable explained to her by Ron and Harry, and in the name of tact she decided to just leave the subject alone. "Harry mentioned you're the Seeker for Gryffindor. I read the article about the record you broke last October."

"Really? It was kind of an accident."

"Oh, no, it's quite impressive. My sons all played Quidditch, so did my husband."

"I've got one of his transformers in my room, y'know. It's really great when I want to run my Muggle stuff."

"The things he did designing those, honestly! Did Ron or Harry tell you bout his flying car?"

That was one gloriously funny anecdote Julie's uncles had somehow left out, probably due to the fact that they came off a little worse for wear at the branches of a vicious Whomping Willow afterward. What wound up happening was just about every person under twenty (and a few over,) gathered around Molly to hear the funny stories. By the time Gerry the house-elf announced dinner, every person who had grown up in or visited the Burrow was flaming red and the 'children' had all had a good laugh at their parents' expense.

Tom and Tim introduced Julie and Mitchie to their older cousin, Charles Weasley, Jr., otherwise known as 'Chuck,' who had graduated from Hogwarts three years ago. They also got to meet the other two Weasley brothers and Charlie Sr.'s wife, as well as Tom and Tim's mothers, who were very nice. 

Mr and Mrs. Granger arrived a short while after that, looking just a bit shaken and with two bags in tow apiece. Julie was happy to see her maternal grandparents, especially her grandfather, who had always a rather strong interest in ornithology that permitted them to owl back and forth. They seemed to find the new Charms professor reasonably nice, until, of course, Julie and he got into a positively smashing argument about which Quidditch teams would go to the Cup that year. Aunt Judy had to go and physically break them up.

After a splendid feast, during which the three genuine Muggles ceased to be petrified, everyone gathered around the tree that had grown in the Potions room and presents began to be unwrapped by all. Severus had his first Weasley sweater, black, of course, and Tim and Tom had gotten Crookshanks a rather peculiar-looking but quite enjoyable scratching post. Mitchie and Julie gave Uncle Ron a red vest they had 'corrected,' and for Uncle Harry they had found a green snuggly at a Muggle shop. It took a few minutes to explain how the contraption worked, ("Sort of like a reverse knapsack, with legholes, see?") but eventually a very tired little Lily fell asleep attached to her father's chest.   
At one or another bookstore, Julie had found a book of various classic scripts for Aunt Judy, and by the same direction Mitchie had found a wizard's geneology of the Snape family for her. Fred and George had very funny things for everyone, including Julie's second Snitch, one that would disappear if she told it to. 

"Excellent for ticking off Slytherins," Fred explained.

"Tom and Tim suggested you might be good at that."

********************************************************** 

But by far the most impressive present of the evening was the one that the 'kids' didn't know about. Since the announcement of Whoever Granger-Snape's impending arrival, everyone had seemed especially keyed-up somehow, and it was only when Harry and Ron brought out the box tht Hermione and Severus realized why.

"It occurred to us that you might like a vacation best," Ginny explained. "The equipment is all in the box for it."

"Equipment?" Severus asked, tentatively moving towards the large box. "That looks like a Weasley box to me, Ginny."

"Oh it is," George observed. 

"It's a Shrinking one."

"The entire contents,"

"As well as it itself,"

"Will shrink,"

"To the size of a Golden Snitch."

"Purely for easy carrying, you understand," Ron said, looking at his twin brothers amusedly.

"Well, d'you want to see what's all in the box?" Harry asked.

"Alright!" Hermione agreed cheerfully, though still being careful to keep a distance from the thing just in case it really did explode. 

It didn't. Harry slit it open magically with his wand and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak.

"You might not want to be seen at times," he explained, tossing it to Severus. 

Next came the outfits of Shrinking Clothes, done in Muggle styles.

"So that your clothes fit,"

"No matter what size you are," Fred and George explained.

And then the two bottles of Juvenilium and Geriatrium potion, and Dumbledore's camera.

"Because one never knows what age is chic when traveling," Marguerite observed.

"And pictures are such lovely fun afterwards," Jacqueline chipped in.

Finally came the map of Cobham and Broughton, as well as a pebble in what looked like a Muggle ziploc bag.

"I provide the means, and she provides the map," Ginny said, indicating Judy. The pebble was a Portkey.

"But last of all, a loan from the Ministry," Ron announced, drawing out the three Time-Turners. "This one is hours, this one is days, this one is years. I know that you're familiar with how to use these things."

"What do you mean by all this?" Severus asked, a little awed.

"You get to see your daughter grow up, Severus," Judy explained. "It's an incredible show, we felt you'd like it."

************************************************************* 

Quietly padding down the hall in the dark under Harry's cloak, shoes muffled with Inaudibility Charms, the two professors tried to follow the Muggle map. It would have been easier if they weren't so terrified. Every little noise made them jump a bit. 

Finally, Severus gave up and whispered a basic Location Charm. It worked very similarly to the Two-Points spell, his wand acting as a radar compass on his daughter.

To their extreme horror, it led to a hospital wing. First it seemed fairly ordinary, as they walked past beds of maybe one or two sleeping students with either minor illnesses or injuries. Julie was nowhere in sight. The wand pointed them on to a frosted-glass door marked 'The Crystal Ward.'

"What is this?" Severus asked his wife.

"I've read in books that wings for the especially fragile are called crystal wards," she whispered. "I never thought-"

Just then, howls of laughter punctuated the air. As quietly as possible, both professors slipped in through the half-open door. 

A little boy, pale as a ghost and with long, dark hair that looked a whole lot like Sirius Black's was lying on a bed with cages above his legs. There were shiny, cruel-looking screws going into his left arm withing a frame as if to hold the bones in place. He looked as if he had never eaten in his life or been out in the sun, and yet he was laughing his head off.

The considerably healthier-looking girl at his bedside was reading out loud to him, mostly what sounded like either Shakespeare or 'Tales from the Decameron.' She was the kind of storyteller who did every character with a different voice, and as her long bangs fell to the sides of her face and she lowered her voice to the villain's tone, she could not have looked more like a little Severus. It was Julie, age ten, and Cory, age six, though he might have almost passed for four. 

"Julie, what do you suppose my mum was like?" Cory asked after a tale ended.

"I d'know, Cory, probably nice and all."

"Don't you know any stories about my mum?"

"Nope, I never met her. I don't know 'bout my folks either."

"Then make one up, a really good one."

"I don't know anything about 'em, Cor'."

"Fine, I'll start it," the ill little boy offered gallantly. "Once upon a time."

"Once upon a time what?"

"You're the one who skipped second form, Julie. I can't think of everything."

"Alright. Once upon a time, there was…a cat."

"A _cat?"_

"Yes…a _magic_ cat. And there was also a girl who sort of looked like Miss Parkington, only taller and with dark hair. And she found the cat and gave it some tuna fish."

"Like Mr. Tibbles?"

"Yep, 'scept this was a magic cat. And it began to rub it's fur around her ankles jus' like Mr. Tibbles does, and suddenly she wanted to take him home, because the cat put a spell on her."

"Really? What happened next, Julie?"

"Well," Julie continued the story, by now very into it; a fairly childish one about a magic cat tricking two humans into meeting 'like a Cupid wif' 'airballs.' By the time she ran out of ideas, Cory was asleep, and she left to go back to her own room after making sure he was covered up and warm.

Through the dark halls her parents followed her. Eventually, the Silencing Charms wore off, and Hermione's shoe squeaked a bit. Little Julie instantly drew her knife and pressed flat against the wall, perfectly terrified.

"Once upon a time, there was a great and mighty family called the Starcatchers," the little girl mumbled as she inched along the hallway, trying to get courage back. "They had brown eyes and dark hair and noone teased 'em 'bout their noses 'cause they were the most powerful bunch of…anyone…in the world. They could have just about anything they wanted, and nobody ever was mean to them…"

On and on, Julie told herself the imaginary story, trying desperately to be in bed before reaching the inevitable conclusion. She didn't.

"I'm the only one."

"Not now," Severus couldn't help whispering. She couldn't hear with her head under her pillow.

******************************************************************* 

A/N: Ah, well, there's a lot more cool stuff next chapter, including just what Julie got Draco and vice-versa. I've just run out of room on my lucky disk and have to find another one that's clover-green and draw a cat on the label, then I can type the next chapter. I'll say 42'll be up by Friday, at least. If you could let me know how it's sounding, do write a bit. It kind of helps to know I'm being read a lot.

-J. McN.


	42. A Humorous Interlude :

A/N: This is an interlude monstrosity perpetrated on Jan McNeville's 'Sixteen Years After Catastrophe' without permission, without tact, and quite probably without what Jan calls 'proper use of national dialects.' I have wreaked this horror for the following reasons:

1. Jan is a show-off.

2. Jan is such an insecure, self-deprecating show-off that nobody really notices that her writing's more grandiose than Hugo even though she's just 16 years old. (She is, by the way, I can prove it, too.)

3. Jan has a whole fleet of peoples who review her every chapter as if it were the newest installment from J.K. herself. I don't. I'm a jealous little bugger sometimes.

4. She looks like the Yank, and sounds like her, too. I hate it when writers put themselves in to fix nasty tringles.

5. I think that Malfoy is a total git and Donaghan was much better around Julie, anyway.

6. She wouldn't let me use the laptop last night. Hahahahahaha! Sweet vengeance!  
7. She has a really obvious password and I freakin' COULD do this.

And now, in the words of my alter ego, here you go.

Chapter One: An Obvious Plot Device (Chapters 1-5.)

Prof. McGonagall: Hermione, why don't you call me 'Minerva' yet? You're going to be like, thirty-some soon and even though I still worry about you like you're my favorite student, you have to act like a professor now.

Hermione: Oh, yeah. Sorry. Guess what? Hagrid gave me and Severus puppies for Christmas! Three heads, one tail, like Fluffy was! Sevvie loves them.

Prof. McGonagall: You're bizarre, d'you know that? And so's old Sev.

Hermione: He's dishy and secretly very...uhh, nevermind –though! I heard we're getting a new fifth-year.

Prof. McGonagall: Yeah, she's a Muggle orphan, criminal, streetrat, Cockney, probably going to torch the place. Ah, well, look at all these silly Muggle crimes she's committed, stalking Justin Hayward...

Hermione: Isn't he like fifty now?

Prof. McGonagall: No, it's 16 years after Wormtail kidnapped you which we never talk about. He's probably already died by now. And you're a great one to talk about silver foxes... Ah-ha, foreshadowing!

Hermione: _What?_

Prof. McGonagall: Oh, nevermind. Go get the first-years and this new Starcatcher chick.

Hermione: Uhhh, okay.

(dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot, one of those little borders Jannie does.)

Hagrid: Yeh've got a ferret in your pocket!

Julie: Yes, and two white mice as well. If we got really hungry at the Terrible Orphanage, you can cook them. They're wonderful with stale porridge and gruel, y'know.

Hagrid: GAAH!

Julie: S'okay, mate, I'm joking. Here, have a huge oatmeal cookie, no reason why. (Scampers off.)

Hagrid: Gaw, I wonder why that kid looks so damn much like Severus.

(some more dot-dot-dots.)

Chloe: It's really very brave of you to come out like this.

Julie thinks: Come out? Was it the great purple raincoat that doesn't fit me or the too-tight jeans?

Chloe: Being quarter-giant, I mean. After all, you're like five-feet-seven and I'm a petite blond first-year who could maybe look over your shoulder standing on a box.

Julie: Quarter-giant? Me? Well, nice guess, I don't know what the hell I am. I'm a 5th-year though, just thought I'd show up ungodly late and stuff.

Chloe: Then it's YOU!

First-years: (tremble, cower.)

Julie: Why the hell does everybody keep doin' that?

Chloe: Oh, I'm just supposed to be really nice to you so you don't turn into Lord-You-Know-Who; who I'm never going to explain, by the way. Here, I'll tell you about what those four animals on the banner mean...

Julie: I like the green except snakes sort of freak me out...you might say I've got a kinky thing for them, don't you? Or maybe the lions.

Chloe thinks: Ack! It's the Dark Lady!

Hermione: Good evening first-years and one bizarrely taller person who must obviously be the infamous criminal fifth-year everybody but the part-veela's hiding from, I'm Professor Granger and I desperately want to sound austere but y'know I'm too darn nice. If you see Sevvie, don't be scared. He's always been like that. (To Julie:) Why don't I find you something beside that Refugee From T.J.Maxx Outfit?

Julie: Oh, thanks. (takes ten minutes learning how to put robes on.) Dead bizarre how these fit me exactly, isn't it? Damn it, my hair's still a nightmare from hell. (attempts to brush it)

Hermione: Thermos Follicus!

Julie's Hair: Frizz!

Hermione thinks: Gaw, I wonder why she looks like a taller, really cynical me at school.

Julie: By the way, could you not call me Starcatcher? I hate being called by a descriptive moniker given me by uncreative and ill-funded orphanage employees on the graveyard shift who couldn't even be bothered to make up a right name for me besides a mocking epithet derived from this little unexplained asterisky scar I've got.

Hermione thinks: Gaw, big words! I like this kid!

(dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot)

Sorting Hat: _Jan McNeville had way too much cherry coke,  
got all caffed-up and wrote this fic as a joke,  
she can write poetry that rhymes,  
but it's a waste of my time,  
so let's just skip to the obvious plot device_!  
THIS ONE'S A DRAW!

Everyone thinks: Gaw, must be Voldemort.)

Julie thinks: Gaw, this hat tickles.)

Prof. McGonagall: Sevvie, Gingersnap, Scary Chick! My office, NOW!

(They follow because everybody likes Scottish accents here.)

Julie thinks: They're gonna kill me, aren't they?

Snape thinks: Oh, groovy! A new show-off know-it-all kid to pick on!

Hermione thinks: If Sevvie doesn't behave himself, I'll _punish_ him. (evil kinky laugh.)

Prof. McGonagall: Alright, time to play Which House Do We Put Scary Chick In? Severus, you may go first.

Snape: Do you ever lie, Scary Chick?

Julie: Well, duh! 

Hermione: Do you like to read?

Julie: Do you like to ask the obvious?

Snape: What's your favorite book, then?

Julie: Fight Club. 

Prof. McGonagall: I'm sorry, but a Marla Singer lookalike with black, tortured hair and a really godawful nose and rabbit teeth is not the answer. You ARE the Weakest Link, goodbye!

Snape: You're right, we'd better put her in Gryffindor. Julie, come with me, I'll be bizarrely nice though still abrasive and try to catch you up to all the stuff you've missed while we go make some potions, 'kay?

Julie: Why are you being nice to me?

Snape: Because you remind me of myself and Slytherins are narcissistic gits sometimes. Spit-spot!

(They go.)

Julie thinks: Oh, that's why he's so snarky and scary-like, he fancied a student and she got kidnapped.

Julie: Did you get her back?

Snape: Yep. (big smile)

Julie: Cool.

(They get back)

Julie thinks: Gaw, it's Merlin!

Snape: Julie, this is my mentor and father-figure, Albus Dumbledore. Albus, this is the Scary Chick. She seems okay so far.

Dumbledore's Eyes: Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle

Dumbledore: Hello, Julie.

Julie: Uh, um, er- hello, sir.

(Hermione comes back.)

Dumbledore: Hey, Gingersnap! How're the mutant dogs?

Julie: Gingersnap? Dead bizarre nicknames we British have.

Snape: It's on account of her last name's Granger-Snape.

(Julie has a Moment of Revelation.)

Julie: Oh, I get it! Neat! Students can date their teachers here?

Granger-Snapes: NO!

Julie: Darn it. I think I might anyway.

Dumbledore: Julie, if you would stop giving the plot away, would you mind taking these two potions and going into a weird speaking coma for a few hours? We want to hear every secret you've ever had from the day you were born.

Snape: Maybe we'll find out where you got that nifty scar.

Julie: Revelation about my irrevealable past! Vet'ran cosmic! Break out the shotglasses!

Prof. McGonagall thinks: Gaw, who but Jan McNeville even says 'vet'ran cosmic' anymore?

Julie: (drinks potions.) Cripes, those were terrible, 'scept I'll never admit that to Professor Snape.

Hermione: Well, d'you think we should bond for a few while Sevvie goes out and talks mysteriously with Dumbledore?

Julie: Sure! That husband of yours is really a dish, y'know. 

Hermione: Paws off, Griffie.

Julie: I just meant that if he had that long hair, I'm sure nobody blames you for fancying a teacher, y'know? And he's got such a Metatron-Sheriff of Nottingham vibe, how long did it take you to fancy him?

Hermione: D'know, I think maybe sixth or seventh-year. You've got to say things like 'fancy' and 'bugger' a lot, don't you?

Julie: How else will I be obviously British and thus distinguish myself when a yank shows up?

Hermione: Yankees in Hogwarts? I won't think about it now...because... tomorrow...is another day!

(Julie passes out and begins to sound like John Lennon and Bob Dylan in tandem.)

Dumbledore: Y'know, I don't think she's Voldemort after all.

Snape: Can we adopt her then? She looks like us and sounds really funny when she's doped-up on potions.

Stoned Julie: _Ev'rybody mus' get stoned, yee-ha! All you need is love..._

Dumbledore: Sure thing, just gotta test all three of your blood first...well, whadd'ya know? Severus, you bad monkey!

Snape: Who, me?

Dumbledore: Yes, you! You were shagging a student sixteen years ago, weren't you?

Snape: (looks terrifically guilty, then eyes widen.)

Hermione: Albus, you've dropped a bolt! How can I have a kid?

Dumbledore: Well, the potion's gone all red, hasn't it?

Snape: Maybe you should have gotten stoned on the Memory Potion as well.

Hermione: And get you fired for shagging a student, love? No way!

Dumbledore: Well, it's not like I'll do anything about it now. After all, you just put your own kid into Gryffindor. (dances happily at the poetic irony.)

Snape: (smacks forehead.) Arrrgh!

Hermione: Well, if y'all insist, she does kinda look like me.

Snape: And me!

Dobby: And me!

(Snape gives Dobby a LOOK.)

Dobby: Well, she is having awfully bad taste in clothes, you know. Bad Dobby! (tries to hit himself in the head again.)

Hermione: Knock it off, you product of subservient brainwashing! (Dobby flees, hearing big words.) You're right, Sev, she does really look like you. (sniffs Julie.)

Julie: Hey! Why the bugger are you sniffing me?

Donaghan: Yeah, tha's my line!

Julie: Who the hell are you?

Donaghan: Sorry, wrong scene. See you later, only-girl. (Departs in all his Scottish glory.)

Julie: Arrrgh! Potion hangover!

Hermione: Look, Dumbledore brought the Mirror of Erised. 

Snape: Julie, look in there.

(Julie sees All Revealed about who she and her parents are and all of the hidden stuff.)

Julie: Wow, you wizards sure make groovy hallucinogens.

Snape: No, this mirror shows one's heart's desire.

Julie: Really? It's just me and my parents sitting together, though. Hey, that's you guys! I'd have never expected that!

(dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot)

Ron: Well, why this big party, 'Mione? Finally going to catch up to Ginny and that sex fiend now?

Harry: Hey! We're married!

Ron: (grumbles) She's still my baby sister, you lecherous git.

Ginny: (smacks him.) Ron, stop being such a peasant.

Baby Twin Potters: (cute sounds)

Neville: Neat! Babies! 

Everyone runs to make sure he doesn't drop one.

Harry: Uh, Nev? Why have you got a jar duct-taped to yourself?

Neville: I d'know. Keeps me from dropping it.

Large Bang: (happens)

Snape: Damn it all, Starcatcher!

(Daddy Snape and Little Snape have a lovely fight.)

Hermione: Julie, what have I told you about having gratuitous fights with your father for the sheer fun of doing it?

Julie: Uh...the first rule is you do not talk about potions class?

Ron's Jaw: (hits ground)

Harry's Jaw: (hits ground)

Neville: (grins knowingly and scratches at the duct tape)

Malfoy: (stands attractively in corner looking like James Marsters.)

(All is explained eventually)

Draco: Hey, Sev, I brought that Firebolt XP-550.

Snape: Vet'ran cosmic! (realizes what he just said.) Damn it, where is that pestiliential contagious Moody freak? Julie!

Julie: Right here, Dad.

Snape: Oh, okay. Here, time to learn how to ride on a broom. (proceeds to talk with Malfoy about Quidditch as if Julie were a hitching post.)

Julie thinks: Hmm...wonder if that blond wears leather pants often?

(dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot)

A/N: Well, what do you think? Will Jan be pissed? I don't think she'll mind too much, considering she asked her reviewers to do this, and I am her 'favorite cousin' after all. I'm just curious to see how many of you can review before she pulls this out.

-Michelle "Mitchie" McNeville  
P.S. Do you see why now?


	43. Effects of All Good Things

A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long with these. And last chapter will probably need to be edited and then re-posted because of all the typographical errors I left in it, lazy git that I am. Did you know I have exactly 199 reviews as of right now? Vet'ran cosmic, thanks so much!

Oh, my lord. I just read what my cousin did. Honestly, having relatives over can be hell in a handbasket! For the record, my password has now been changed, but since six people liked …that…I think I'll leave it in. On a happier note, I now have a beta reader! Took me bloody long enough! Shara Michelle has given this chapter the okay, so here it is, and here you go.

Chapter Forty-Two Three: Consequences for All Good Things

Julie learned to do equations in math, though she didn't like it much. Her hair had started to get bushy. She had just turned twelve. Her parents were there.

She fell off the slide and scraped her knee with more blood than any of the other kids had had yet in her class. Instead of being terrified, she was too busy grinning as several kids gathered around to appraise the mark admiringly. She had just lost her second front tooth, and her first 'big' one made her look a bit squirrelish. She was seven-and-a-half. Her parents were there.

Julie disappeared from her crib a few hours after being turned in as a foundling child. She weighed eight pounds and four ounces and had a lot of dark hair already. Her scar was still red and had bandages around her tiny hand. At precisely two-seventeen in the morning, she vanished into thin air.   
Noone was there, so noone noticed; excepting of course the couple who had picked her up to hold under an Invisibility Cloak. She was very little and slept through their visit, so she was very easy to hold and pass back and forth. It was putting her back down into the crib that was the hard part for them.

In the library, Julie and Beatrice were playing chess. As Beatrice took her time placing a bishop, Julie stared intently at the board. The instant her turn came, pieces began to slide around, both white and black, until black finally came to a mate within five minutes. When Beatrice looked back from the noise that had distracted her, she hadn't been paying enough attention to even care that the board was completely different, much less that she had lost. Julie didn't say anything, but sort of wondered what had happened, judging by her disturbed look.  It was the first time she used magic, on her ninth 'birthday.' Her parents were behind her watching quietly and very proud.

At Denningford Orphanage, nearly five miles away, Julie got the phone call telling her Cory had died. She didn't say a word, just stalked off into the night. When the Broughton authorities found her the next morning on the same step she had been left on, curled up in a crying ball, they had no idea her parents were there guarding her and had walked with her all the way in the dark. Miss Parkington wasn't the only person who hugged her, crying, that day, though she had no idea.

A ferret left at the Royal Humane Society came home in a thirteen-year-old Julie's pocket despite her dormitory Matron's protestations. She toyed with several names for the thing, finally calling him Anthony Starcatcher. He rode in her pocket almost always, and she even made a hole in the lining of her vest so she could have him along all the time. By then she had been classified as 'depressed,' 'antisocial,' 'lonely,' and 'a discipline problem' by her teachers, and noone really objected to Anthony as Julie's grades returned from where they had fallen when Cory died and her crimes disappeared but for a few pranks. She even started to talk to her friends again, and made some new ones, especially from the Drama Club. A boy named Jack Merridew gave her two white mice for her fourteenth birthday, and her first kiss as well. Her father was not only there but a little ticked at the boy's forwardness.

Ten-month-old Julie learned to walk in a room 'by herself.' Her parents caught her and supported her once or twice, though she could not see them. Her dad tickling her, though, she did feel and giggle at, though she did not yet have the suspicion to look where it was coming from.

While Julie studied at the library, a black-haired boy pretended to use the computer next to her, while a bushy-haired girl gave the appearance of reading. Julie wound up asking the girl where she could find something and was directed perfectly; she didn't notice the resemblance between them any more than she noticed the potion vial sticking out of the girl's pocket. All she could recall about the incident was the way the boy and girl kept glancing at each other, as if in amazement, probably flirting.

A sixteen-year-old boy sneaked up Julie on the dark. She used her knife and he was suitably injured and later transferred to what the kids called 'juvie.' Had she known that there was a very tall man grabbing the boy by the shoulders invisibly, she would not have cut him. She was ten years old.

Julie was called into the office, for her next transfer, she expected. A tall man by the last name of Thomas explained something rather improbable to her when the Matron was out of the room. At first she laughed in his face, but then he showed her his wand. When Julie finally accepted the idea of Hogwarts and being a witch, her parents hugged each other, knowing what would come soon.

It was then that they realized how much time they had spent in the past.

*************************************************************** 

_"Five months?"_ Judy Parkington asked in shock. "Are you mad? You left a second ago, how are you to explain this?"

"Uh, just tell Julie what we did?" Severus asked rather sarcastically. "Something tells me she won't exactly mind the circumstances."

"Hasn't it occurred to you that what you did is technically a felony? It's not like people aren't going to notice it!"

"Calm down, Ron!" Ginny said, just short of smacking him. "You aren't going to lose your job, Sev and Hermione aren't in trouble, and the lot of you are overreacting terribly." The redheaded lady grinned suddenly. "And besides, the evidence isn't really that obvious. Witches wear robes, you know."

"I'm just wondering what Madam Pomfrey'll think when the baby's born in February instead of in June or so."

"Yeah! We get to see the baby before we go to America!"

"I was wondering when you'd realize that, Ron," Ginny said a bit acidly.

 "It's just occurring to me that you're really going to have a new baby," Harry said, smiling. "Don't suppose anyone'd care to lay odds on what kind he or she'll be?"

"I think a bet on his-or-her House would be more lucrative."

"Why? It's fifty-fifty Gryffindor or Slytherin, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know, my mother was a Ravenclaw."

"Now there's a bit of history I didn't recall," Professor McGonagall observed. "What names have you two got in mind?"

And thus the mad race of suggestions and scribbling on parchments began. Professor McGonagall excused herself a few minutes into it, but the only person who noticed merely suggested 'Minerva' if the baby was a girl.

The Headmistress had some miscreance to deal with.

*********************************************** 

"And now, nobles all," Tom announced. "I declare the Students' Revels open!"

Since all or most of the grown-ups and teachers had disappeared, the Weasley cousins and remaining students had elected to celebrate the holiday in their own way. A deserted classroom had been commandeered, desks pushed to the walls, leaving a central patch of cleared floor, which Tom and Tim covered with pillows. Chuck Weasley had procured a few boxes of some substance in bottles, and as each Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw entered, they were handed one. Just as everyone had settled into a more-or-less circle, a knock sounded on the closed classroom door.

"Who dares to knock?" Tim asked in his most uppity impression of Nearly-Headless Nick. "Reveal thy name and House of origin!"

"We are Grudgett, Blodgett, and Blodgett of Slytherin."

There was a silence before Julie made a grandiose gesture and said:

"Enter!"

The Gryffindors stared at her. She gave them a look and mouthed the words 'trust me.' Lyff and his twin cousins opened the door and bowed floridly.

"Many compliments of the season to all of you," Grudgett said. "We have come in search of the reveling we had heard was commencing here."

"We come bearing gifts," Jen announced, pulling a suspicious-looking bottle from her wizard robes.

"Enter in, noble Serpents," Hannah Stern greeted. "Knowest thou of the Muggle game we are hence to play?"

"Pardon mine ignorance of custom," Jem excused himself. "None of us are students of the Muggle Studies course."

"Then permit our American comrade to explain the game."

"That we will, earnest Lion."

The ultra-civil attitude and bizarre antiquated language was making it hard for Mitchie not to laugh. Biting her lip, she stood to explain matters.

"The game we play this evening is 'I Never.' Going in circular order after the manner of clocks, we each in turn announce to all present something which we have never done. All present who have done it must take a drink, and, if pressed, tell the tale of that which they have done."

"Well spoken, American. Shall then the game commence?"

There was another knock.

"Hold but a moment," Julie said, going to get the door. "Reveal to us thy name and House of origin!"

"I am Draco Malfoy of Slytherin."

There was a definite pause during which everyone stared at Julie in horror. Mitchie, however, found this to be splendidly funny and asked him in. The Gryffindors were grinning as Julie gave Mitchie an 'are you crazy?' look, to which the Yank merely mouthed 'trust me.'

"Art thou familiar with the Muggle game 'I Never'?" Julie asked.

"Yes, quite. It is played in France often."

"Then by all means, noble Serpent, do join with us!" Mitchie invited expansively. "As the senior present, would you do us the honor of going first?" She handed him a bottle as Julie openly scowled at her.

"That I would, fair Lion." Draco joined the students in the circle. Everyone waited with bated breath. "I never fell into the Hogwarts lake."

Lyff Grudgett, Chuck Weasley, and two Hufflepuffs all drank. Next it was Mitchie's turn. 

"I never…had a crush on a teacher." 

Everyone but a Ravenclaw took a drink. Mitchie smiled. "Alright, y'all, dish."

"Professor Granger," Tim and Tom whispered in unison. Julie shot them a look of venom and shock mixed.

"Me, too," said Donaghan. "In second year."

"Honestly!"

"No, I had one, too, it's understandable," Chuck observed.

"You _guys!"_ Julie complained in abject distress. 

"Come on, Professor, 'fess up," Mitchie coerced.

"Not you, too!"

"Well, no, mine was Professor Sinistra in second year."

"I had the biggest thing for Professor Snape," Hannah said with a grin. Julie had long since given up and buried her face in her hands.

"Didn't we all?" a Hufflepuff girl inquired.

"Oh, I had a crush on Hagrid," Lucy Christie said. Tom gave her a look of total incredulity. "It's hard to explain."

"I take it you didn't have a crush on your dad, Julie," Tim inquired. She was spared from confessing by Mitchie suddenly uttering a night-splitting howl.

"What was that?" Malfoy inquired.

"Sorry, a bit too much…what is this?" 

"Absinthe," Chuck Weasley said jokingly.

"No!" both of his cousins cried. But it was far too late. Mitchie and Julie had both cracked up royally. 

It took a few minutes to get everyone settled down, at which point Donaghan took his turn.

"I never bribed a teacher to get out of trouble."

That brought out several choice anecdotes.

"I never kissed anyone in a broom closet."

Everyone drank and that one was shrugged off.

"I never shagged someone out on the Quidditch pitch."

There was a knock and in the name of getting rid of Chuck's 'I never' Matius Flint was invited in.

"I never shaved a cat."

"I never got a note for the restricted section of the library by lying."

"I never dated someone who was more than a year younger than me."

"Speaking of, where is Aldous?"

"Didn't he go home."

"His parents were going abroad, I thought he was staying here."

That topic, perhaps not too wisely, was shrugged off.

"I never told someone I was gay to get out of dating them."

To everyone's shock, only Julie and Malfoy drank at that.

"Orphanage, he had acne like lizard skin."

"Millicent Bulstrode, need I say more?"

"I never kissed a teacher," Hannah Stern announced.

Julie looked surprisingly unguilty and began to count off on her fingers.

"Kissed my dad on the cheek after the Quidditch game, Uncle Harry under the mistletoe –does that count? Then there was Flitwick and Hagrid after I danced with them-"

"Good lord, you've got a record," Malfoy said.

"And you, that's five."

"I kissed Professor Granger once on the cheek," Tom said.

"She's like your aunt, that shouldn't count," Lyff Grudgett protested.

"I never dated two people at once," Lucy Christie said.

Julie and Jen Blodgett were the only two people to drink. Lyff looked like he'd just swallowed his own tongue.

"Who was it, Jen?"

"MacAndrew Shannon," she confessed with a grin.

"A _Gryffindor?"_

"Right on, girl," Mitchie encouraged.

"Jen! You cheated on Lyff with a Gryffindor?" Jem asked in shock.

"You're dating him? I thought you guys were cousins…?"

"He's adopted," Jen explained. "How 'bout you, Julie?"

"I plead the Fifth."

"It's not America," Mitchie said.

"Well, who could fault me a Gryffie and a Slyth at the same time? I was comparison-shopping. Let's leave it at that."

"Come on, 'fess up!" Lucy begged.

"I bet it was Malgryevic and Donaghan."

"The Bulgarian? No, thank you!"

"Then confess, Julie!"

"I wouldn't put it past her to fancy some first-year and lead him astray," Draco said. The look of undiluted vitriol his secret girlfriend shot him was enough to put him past suspicion.

"Anyway, it's Tim's turn," Mitchie observed.

"I never dated someone from another country."

Mitchie and Donaghan drank and then kissed each other very briefly. Julie didn't even twitch and even seemed to approve of this. "Guess it wasn't Malgryevic then."

"If you people find my life to be so damn fascinating…" Julie scowled. 

"It could be worse, Julie," Jen Blodgett said. "Try explaining that you've dated your cousin for a year but that's alright because technically you aren't related."

The conversation went on between the two dark-haired girls, nearly ignored by the rest of the revelers.

"I suppose that sounds worse to you?"

"To your twin brother?"

"Alright, that _is_ bad."

"Which breed did you wind up fancying?"

"Breed? Oh, definitely Slytherin. Griffies are so…well, they're completely unobjectionable, and you just get so damn close to them."

"See, I wound up liking the Griffie. Slytherins leave marks, y'know what I mean?"

"If we could continue?" Tom Weasley asked. "It's your turn, professor."

"Hmm…so much I've done, need something interesting," Malfoy mused as if trying to figure out one odd thing he'd never done. "I know. I never humiliated a sibling around their friends."

Both Grudgetts drank, as did both Weasley twins and many other people there. Mitchie waited a second and then took a small sip as well, which went mainly unnoticed. Julie and Malfoy, however, had been watching and recognized the gesture of apology.

"Professor, just out of curiosity, do you _have_ siblings?" Hannah inquired.

"No."

Everyone found that funny. "Ms. Blodgett, I believe it is your turn."

"Alright. I never spent the night with a person in a different House from me."

Things degenerated rapidly from that point as the definition of 'spend the night with' was debated and bandied about all around. Several Ravenclaws had siblings or close friends in Hufflepuff and vice-versa, and a couple of Gryffindors had friends in different Houses, too. Next was Matt Flint's turn.

"I never kept a secret from my parents." Noone seemed to notice how pointedly he was gazing at Starcatcher. She gave him a smirk and drank like many others did. "At the risk of being forward, may I ask yours?"

"Christmas presents, Flint," Julie replied with a grin. Mitchie, the only one who had not drank anything, smiled as well. It was now Lyff Grudgett's turn.

"I never dressed in drag."

Malfoy drank a little more obviously than people would have realized. Julie gave him a smile.

"If I may inquire?"

"Masquerade ball at the Paris Opera House. I looked smashing."

There was almost nobody present not cracking up over that. "And you, Jules?" She had the good sense to give him a scowl before answering:

"I have played more guys than girls in my acting career due to shortages."

"Would you care to provide us with a few of your more notorious exploits, then?" Flint asked, a bit meanly. Julie replied with her best unkind sneer.

"How's Judas in _'Godspell'_ suit you, Flint?"

"Can you really play a shofar?" Hannah asked.

"Sort of."

"I never killed anybody," the hapless Ravenclaw next in line said, having been unable to think of anything. It was, of course, only the professor who took a drink.

"I am certain you are familiar with the war against Voldemort?" he inquired rhetorically. All were silent. "In the interests of good fellowship, I will say my total is three dead."

"I never told someone I loved them without meaning it," Julie said. 

The Slytherin cousins and one of the Ravenclaws drank, and after taking a brief look at the Gryffindor Seeker and the Yank so did Donaghan, but noone noticed his. Julie especially did not see that as her attention was focused on her professor's drink.

He didn't even twitch and even gave her a solemn gaze before an almost sly smile. 

"I find myself oddly unable to lie," Flint complained.

"Of course thou dost, worthy Slytherin," Chuck Weasley said with a smile. "Within each bottle is a very diluted form of Veritaserum."

"Cousin, thou art truly a miscreant," Tom said chastisingly.

"Or merely a believer in truth above the other three," Mitchie said.

"Other three?" Flint asked, giving the American a decidedly cold and condescending glare. "What values do you hold?"

"I consider myself a child of the Revolution, honorable snake," Mitchie answered. 

"Oh, Mudblood faith," the Slytherin observed rather nastily.

"Mr. Flint," Malfoy said threateningly. But Mitchie just smiled.

"I assure you, sir, my lineage is as pure in line as yours by my father's side."

"So you _are_ one of the American Tylers?" Flint asked in mock surprise.

"I am," Mitchie said, knowing full well what he meant. "And you are the scion of the Flints, two last heirs we seem to be."

Donaghan had his arm protectively around her shoulders and the game had come to an abrupt end. Everyone was tense as a spring waiting for something to happen.

"At least I am certain to have children and not _puppies,"_ Flint said with a leer. The curse that hit him a second later made him fall like a scrap of board. 

The entire room looked from Julie, whose wand was still pointed in her hand at Flint, to Mitchie, who was suddenly terrified. 

"I'm sorry, Professor," Julie said, "he annoyed my friend."

"Five points to Gryffindor," he mumbled.

Very quietly, Mitchie pushed back her sleeve and stood up to face the room.

"I think it's about time you guys found out anyway."

Just a little lower than where Dark Marks were always placed was a five-pointed star, almost a pentacle and clearly a birthmark. "My parents were both werewolves, I was…born this way."

Donaghan had her hand in his within moments, not quite strong enough yet to do what she was doing now. At last Jen Blodgett broke the silence:

"How freakin' _neat!"_

And that was all. Within seconds the entire room was restored and Mitchie's arm was merely being scrutinized as a room of kids would any other odd birthmark or tattoo. Privately, Julie wondered why Jen was being suddenly so nice. Something she had said echoed in her mind:

_'Slytherins leave marks, y'know what I mean?'_ What was going on in the Serpents' Den? 

But more importantly, what to do now that she knew one loved her?

Suddenly, an owl landed on her shoulder. She read the summons and laughed, pretending it was merely a funny note in honor of the season. It was actually something a bit dire.

_'Ms. Snape, may I see you in my office? –Professor McGonagall.'_

**************************************************** 

Now it is not easy to become a connoisseur of headmasters' offices. It takes years of dissidence, misbehavior, and especially good grades to accomplish this. Julie had been both chastised and rewarded in headmasters' offices, and it is necessary to have both occasions to truly appreciate what these kinds of rooms are. They must be both intimidating and decently comfortable, organized to the point of silliness and decorated predictably. Julie had been curious about Professor McGonagall's office for quite awhile, as her Head of House's wasn't intimidating at all. Her dad's was nearly scary and suitably Slytherinish in decoration, but still the Headmistress's had to be incredible.

She was not disappointed.

There were two chairs in front of an enormous desk, behind which reposed a veritable throne of a swivel chair. On the wall was an embroidered tapestry of the Hogwarts crest, enchanted so that each of the animals moved. Right then the badger was scratching its' ear and the raven flexed its' talons. The serpent and lion had started to hiss and roar in silent but obvious noise. 

"Good evening, Julie," the kindly Headmistress said. "Do sit down."

This was a ritual every figure of authority in every school used. The student was made to sit down, papers –parchments as well, in the Hogwarts case- were looked through, and then the point of the visit was reached in about one minute. "About last night at dinner…"

"I'm sorry we kept arguing. It's kind of a habit."

"I rather expected the two of you to not get along. It was the behavior between you and Malfoy afterward that bothers me more, Julie."

"It was rather inappropriate, wasn't it?"

"I'm glad you realize that," Professor McGonagall observed just a touch sarcastically. "What I've really called you in here for, Julie, is to inquire just what is going on between you two."

'Damn Veritaserum to hell!' Julie thought. It was now time to haul out the omissive lies…the only kind she could manage on the drug.

"Well, Professor…" she began. "We do argue a lot, that much's obvious. Mostly it's clashes of culture and House and opinion."

"That, I assume, has to do with the fact that you grew up among Muggles?"

"More that I grew up among _poor_ Muggles," Julie admitted with a smile. "He's so bloody patrician, drives me right up the wall."

"You wouldn't be the first Gryffindor to feel that way. What I mean, though, is why the charade when you clearly don't detest each other quite as much as you say?"

"Charade?"

The Headmistress gave Julie a look as if to say 'I'm not stupid.' The Seeker sighed. 

"It's mainly on account of the other kids. I mean, it's bad enough I just turned up like a chipmunk in a rectory; having people lay odds as to which teacher I'll wind up shagging's ridiculous." The absurd metaphor finally got a smile out of Professor McGonagall. "And you could say I do find him rather cute."

"Hence the kissing in the antechamber a few weeks ago?"

"How did you know about that?"

"I'm Headmistress. I know many things."

"I believe _that_ was a sort of prank. He only did it to tick me off."

"You also took a trip with him to Muggle London?"

"To the library, then around my old street a bit."

"So your excursion was purely scholastic?"

"That was the idea. We wound up getting to know each other a little, though. He's not really as bad as some of the Gryffindors made out."

"I was told he spent nights with you while you were in St. Mungo's."

"Yeah, he read me some interesting books about traditions and stuff in this school, especially 'Hogwarts, A History.' Most of the time I was asleep and he just switched shifts with my Mum and Dad…probably because he's Dad's friend I guess." There was a pause and Julie realized what the professor might have been implying. "Are you suggesting I-?"

"No, Julie, I just wanted to see how you'd react to the idea of it. Clearly matters are not as I had…feared."

"Okay, is _everyone_ here convinced that runs in families?"

"I was worried more about Malfoy's family than yours. You might say that his father was on the –unscrupulous side."

"I don't think Draco is."

It was a split second before Julie realized her mistake.

"You're on a first-name basis?"

"You wouldn't _believe_ how it ticks him off. I swear, though, if he calls me 'Julia' one more time…"

Sometimes it was easy to get away with stuff. This was not one of those times.

"Anyway, the other reason why I wanted to speak with you…have you been told what a Time-Turner is?"

"Yep. Can I have one?"

"Why was I expecting that?" Professor McGonagall asked hypothetically with a smile. "Actually, it is technically illegal for Time-Turners to be used unless it is by Aurors or students who have been specially recommended. Technically, your parents have just been off committing a felony."

"Really! How festive! What were they doing?"

"Visiting you, actually."

"In the future?"

"No, it was your uncles' idea to let them see you grow up. They've worked up a total of about five months time-traveling."

Julie was silent, biting her lip to try not to cry.

"Then why don't I remember it?"

"It's dangerous to try and change the past, Julie. Your parents went back as spectators, nothing more." Professor McGonagall realized just how bad this was making Julie feel. "I think you'll find, though, that you recall a touch here and a sound there, and I know you remember times when you were certain you weren't alone."

"Hold on a tick! Five months? Doesn't that mean-?"

"Yes, your sibling should arrive within the next two months, Julie."

"Then he'll be born before I go to America. I get to see him…"

Professor McGonagall realized then just how fatalistically Julie viewed the Mission. Maybe encouraging her to befriend Draco was not such a bad idea, if it made becoming the Dark Lady any easier. It was worth the risk.

Minerva decided not to give Julie the report from the American Aurory Office she'd just received. It could certainly wait until after the holiday.

"And by the way, you had marked in one of the class surveys at the beginning of the year that you were interested in Animagic. Is that still the case?"

"Oh, definitely!" Julie said, brightening. "All my favorite professors and uncles and parents can."

"I've been reviewing your scores on your research papers, and despite entering Hogwarts late, I believe you should be ready to join the Advanced Transfiguration group after Christmas holidays."

"Seriously, professor? When is it?"

"We meet after classes on Fridays and second Tuesdays. In the meantime, I recommend reading these few books…" Minerva handed the girl a list, which Julie accepted and began scanning over as if it contained the secrets of the universe. "And one more thing, Julie?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Don't spend the _whole_ holiday reading."

******************************************************** 

The carriage ride home was very surreal for Julie. Mitchie had elected to go with Donaghan to visit his grandfather, something Professor Snape agreed to after extracting solemn promises from both werewolves to behave. Julie knew the Yank didn't want to pry into her family, despite Julie's parents' decision to keep her as a foster kid. She also suspected that Donaghan would need some help explaining lycanthropy to his grandfather without being disowned. As it was, she liked traveling alone with just her parents. They had taken the Grangers back to their home near Manchester first, and Julie had spent awhile chatting with her grandparents. But by far, the best part of the trip was seeing her real home come into view for the first time.

The Snape residence looked a little like a small Hogwarts, only more shadowy and surrounded by lots of trees. In the winter sun, the snow on the Gothic roof glistened and looked as if the building was topped by iridescent quartz. There was only a light dusting of snow on the steps to the front door, despite the drifts that surrounded it on all sides; due, as her father pointed out, to a charm, as there were no house-elves to shovel snow. Julie shouldered her ancient denim backpack and got out of the carriage with her mum. For the first time in her life, she was really home.

Would this be the only time she would see it?


	44. A Growing Sense Of Dread

A/N: And now for yet another drastic protagonal character change! Hey, it's been five chapters, it's about time I messed with her! Here you go.

Chapter Forty-Four: A Growing Sense of Dread

Chloe was having a splendid holiday. She had gone with her parents to a café the instant she had gotten off the train, and nice as England was, those Brits didn't know a thing about cocoa compared to the French and Swiss. After the café and a lovely ride home in a horse-drawn carriage amid the snow, Chloe had gone to the stable and visited her favorite of the Delacour-Davies' several equines. There was Noirè, the lovely black carriage horse, Marie, her dappled mare she rode in summertime, and a beautiful matched pair of uniquines named Chekhov and Lautrec. Uniquines were a rare cross between unicorns and horses with shining, almost multichromatic coats and shining eyes. Sure enough, Chloe found her seven-year-old brother grooming them and the pair had spent a lovely afternoon with their four-legged pets.

That very night, however, Chloe got the best Christmas surprise of the entire year. She had just gotten her pajamas on when she went to open her trunk.

Inside was a very cold and sheepish-looking Aldous.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in rapid-fire French.

"Er…didn't want to stay at school, hitched a ride, sort of?"

"Are you mad? My father will kill you when he…good heavens, Papà!" She ran and hastily locked the door. "Have you _any_ idea what would happen…if you were found?" Panting from the stress, Chloe gasped out the words. Aldous stepped out of the trunk and hurried to hold her hand.

"Are you alright? …this was a bad time, wasn't it?"

"Oh, no, Aldous, I just…wasn't expecting you."

"Clearly."

"What are you doing?"

"Covering my eyes."

"Why? Is it too bright after the dark trunk?"

"Er, no, just, er…what exactly _are_ you wearing?"

"Oh, these? They're only pajamas."

"They aren't much _more."_

Chloe realized Aldous was blushing worse then the time he overheard Mitchie and Julie arguing about wizard or Muggle bras. With a rather mischievous smile, she pulled on her robe over the diaphanous sleeping clothes.

"Is 'at better?" she inquired in English. 

"Er, y-yes," Aldous shivered.

"But you're freezing!" she observed in relative horror. "Get into bed now, before you catch your death!"

_"What?!"_

"You. Bed. Warm. Now."

"Chloe, doesn't that seem just a little-?"

"Aldous, do as I say," she commanded him.

"Alright…what if your dad-?"

"He's listening to the Quidditch match on the radio. It could be hours before Chile beats Argentina."

"And your mum?"

"She fancies the games just as much as Dad. If I weren't so-" Chloe suddenly yawned, "-tired, I'd be down 'zhere as well."

"Shall I go?" Aldous asked a bit nervously.

"Go? Where? You're freezing and you're going to stay with me. A girl could always use another teddy bear."

With that, Chloe hopped into the four-poster and pulled the covers around them both. "Actually, it's kind of nice that you're 'ere. You can see some of those sites in Montmartre you're doing 'zhat report about."

"Chloe, don't you think it's kind of…improper, though, for us to share a bed like this?"

"Improper? You're the one who just crossed the Channel with my books and clothes." The little part-veela took Aldous's glasses and placed them on the night table before making the lights go out. "And no, I don't mind spending the night with you. You're quite cuddly."

Just then, Aldous kissed her full on the mouth. For once in her life, Chloe couldn't think of a thing to say. The times she had been kissed non-platonically she could count on one hand without needing more than a thumb, and even then it had been businesslike, testing Polytongue Potion with Aldous. This was something entirely new –and nice.

"Is that why you 'itched a ride in my trunk?" she asked after a few seconds. Aldous smiled a bit sheepishly.

"That, and I knew I'd miss you a lot, Chloe."

********************************************** 

Severus lowered his wand and picked up his glass.

"Is the picture straight?"

Julie gave the oil painting a scrutinizing look.

"Yep."

"Good, because I'm bloody hungry. Want to go get lunch now?"

"Sure. Shall I make salads?"

"I was thinking a roast bear for each of us."

"How 'bout stew again?"

"That would be splendid, yes."

"I think that Whoever might need a crib." Severus sighed and pointed his wand at the door again.

"Accio crib."

And the crib bloody well accio'd. It was very lucky little Whoever's room had double doors. Julie and her father were having an absolute field day decorating the baby's room. 

"It's an awfully nice one."

"Thank you. It was mine once."

"You know, Dad, I can't really quite picture you as a baby."

"I looked sort of like I do now, only chubby and illiterate and much shorter. You were a very cute baby, you know."

"Was I? I keep forgetting you and Mum saw that."

"You were a wonderful baby, looked so much like your mother it was frightening." As they walked, a genuinely odd smell became evident. Severus suddenly burst into a run.

"Dad, what is it?"

"She's developing them!"

"Developing?" 

Julie followed her dad with an expression of total confusion. Developing?

She was answered when they got to the huge basement Potions lab. Hermione had somehow made clotheslines appear everywhere; it looked like parchment laundry day.

"Okay, what's going on?" she asked in curiosity.

"Come over here," her mother invited. Julie crossed to the other side of the room and saw the reverse side of all the parchments.

This was the wizarding method of photography. 

"I had forgotten this," Julie said, looking at her seven-year-old self first using a card catalogue at the library. She was very short and in order to reach the 'Ca-Ce' drawer had pulled out several lower letters to use as steps. Another picture showed herself at age fourteen or so in a circus ringmaster's coat, holding what looked like a horn off a ram with her lip bleeding. Considering the cut, she was grinning a bit broadly. "That was probably my favorite show I did back there."

"I think you might have overdone it with the shofar just a bit, though, dear."

"Alright, I know I keep asking this, but just how much _did_ you two go and see?"

"Well, the time you hot-wired Judy Parkington's car and had the boot filled with assorted inappropriate articles comes to mind. Teaching you to drive won't be so difficult, after all."

"I was afraid you'd find that one out."

"And that report you wrote when you were nine on Sir Noel Coward for history, we've seen a lot of good things you did when you were little."

"Like this," Severus indicated a picture of Julie trying to train Anthony with peanuts. As the picture moved, the ferret appeared to be looking for the treat in her hair. "I didn't know you had so many people who liked you."

"It never seemed like I had all that many."

"Believe us, you do. You've been very quiet since we got home, Julie."

"Yes, it's very unlike you…we know that now."

"I guess it's just me worrying 'bout the mission then."

There was a tense pause.

"Julie, if you don't want to do it, noone's forcing-"

"No! I said I'd do it, I'm doing it! Minister Dumbledore asked me."

"Speaking of," Severus remarked quietly, "this came today." The professor handed a sheaf of parchments and photographs to his wife out of his robe pocket. "It's the first report from the American Auror Office."

"Good news?" Julie asked hopefully.

"Sort of," her father said. "The Americans have the entire charade set up a bit ahead of schedule. The German Aurorscheidt has entered the equation on our side, and they built a Dark lair for you in New Orleans."

"Really? Can I keep it after?" Julie asked jokingly.

"Dear, it's the Germans. They can probably fold it like parchment to the size of a Knut for you."

"Actually," Severus remarked, "it's probable the lair will need to be destroyed if you experience a home confrontation there. The bad news, American intelligence has detected de Diablo noticed it. You'll need to be leaving in March instead of May."

The silence from Julie was tangible.

"Will I get to see the baby before I go?"

"Most definitely."

"I'd better owl Mitchie and Chloe then."

"Albus already has. Well, Fleur knows, at least, we're supposed to tell Mitchie when she gets back from Donaghan's."

"It was awfully nice of you guys to sign on as her foster folks."

"We would have anyway. We were next on the list, you know."

"Sev!" Hermione protested. "You're the one who suggested Albus bring her from America!"

_"Really, _Dad?"

Severus looked a bit sheepish.

"You could say that."

"Well, don't just stand there like a lump who wears black, give me details, Dad!"

"Albus knew you'd need backup and I asked him if the Tylers had a kid your age. They did, so he owled and got her, on her conditions. You'd better not be thinking of spreading this about Gryffindor tower, girl."

"I'll consider it the darkest secret in the world, Daddy," Julie said rather sarcastically. "Do Uncle Ron and Malfoy know also, then?"

"Everyone's been owled a copy of the first report."

"Could I see it?"

"Er…"

"I think that should be alright."

"Dear, I…"

Severus gave Hermione a look and she reluctantly handed Julie the report. As the fifteen-year-old read through it, her parents waited nervously for her to find the photographs.

"This is de Diablo?" Julie asked with a bit of an incredulous smile. "Reminds me of my bloody math teacher…good lord, who's-?"

Julie had found the picture of the latest Muggle victim. But for the fact that this girl's hair was a lightish brown and she lacked the prominent Snape nose, the Muggle might have been her twin sister. "She looks like me."

"She was only a little bit older than you."

"Older than me?"

"About five months. Her name was-"

"Don't tell me, I don't want to know."

"Is something wrong, Julie?"

"Not especially, I mean, it's kind of a shock when you see a victim who looks like you, but I can handle it."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, quite. America's not necessarily going to be a Quidditch game, but it's not like I wasn't picked for a reason."

"Do you understand why de Diablo's doing this?"

"I get the impression he's bitter about something in his past."

"His parents were killed by Muggle radicals. Not because they were wizards, but because of their nationality. This kind of violence happens a lot in America."

"I see," Julie said in a frozen voice. 

"Dear, you really don't have to-"

_"Yes, I do._ Apart from the mission, did you know Professor McGonagall's letting me do Advanced Transfiguration soon?"

"Dear, that's wonderful! Animagic?"

"Yeah, I've got a whole list of books to read. Okay if I run up and bring down a few of them?"

"Sure."

And Julie left, presumably to get some books. Her parents could tell she was very upset, however. In spite of being able to fake excitement and change the subject, their daughter couldn't conceal her teeth clenching and her hands folding into tight fists. She did look a lot like her father when she was angry, and right now both parent and child were.

"Somehow I expected it to scare her off!" Severus raged.

"Well, it _didn't,_ dear, you know she's a Gryffindor."

"Half, dear, we never did figure which."

"Well, what now? She's twice as determined and she speaks to us less every day."

"Maybe I can convince Albus to involve a third party in this."

"Like whom? There's already the Americans, Canadians, and British involved, not to mention Germany-"

"I was thinking maybe one of those covert organizations the Muggles keep making films about…what do they call them?"

"Do you mean like, the FBI?"

"No, with all the Italian accents and people in casinos, what's that lot called?"

"You want to call in the wizarding Mafia?"

"If that's its' name."

"Severus, the Mafia's an organized crime outfit."

"I've dealt with that kind before. They can certainly dispose of one little Latino git."

"And what would that solve?"

"It would keep my daughter from having to ride into that hellhole and bail out the colonies!"

"Severus, don't you read? Calling in criminals would only worsen what's going on."

"Well, how would you suggest getting her out of this?"

"I don't _know,_ dear. Julie seems to be as obstinate as you sometimes."

"The report said she's going to need a decoy, too, the Americans insist on it."

"Then I'll find the most trustworthy person possible."

"The most trustworthy person who looks like Julie."

"Albus wrote me a note on whom I should look for. Polyjuice won't work entirely, so Tyler can't do it. She's too redhaired and not pale enough. Chloe Davies isn't tall enough and far too blond. We need someone with black hair and pale skin-"

"Jennifer Blodgett."

"She detests Julie."

"Are you certain? They've never fought at school."

"Believe me, Jennifer Blodgett is not someone I'd trust with my daughter's life."

"Who else looks that much like her at the school?"

"Maybe. I'm still going to suggest to Albus that they find one among the Americans."

Suddenly Hermione looked very strange. "Dear, what's wrong?"

"I think the baby kicked."

Severus smiled, bent down and addressed her stomach:

"No, you aren't old enough."

**************************************************************** 

The time had, at last, come for Chloe to take the train home from Paris. For some bizarre reason, she was refusing all help with her heavy trunk at the train platform, as she had all holiday.

"Chloe, mais petit, do you need help with 'zat trunk?"

"Oh, no Mamà, I can handle it."

"Are you sure, dear?" her dad asked. "It looks heavy."

"Non, merci, Papà, I can 'andle it."

Just then the clasp broke and the trunk fell open. A black-haired boy of about fifteen had been hiding in it for what had to have been the entire holiday. 

_"And 'oo is 'zis?"_ her mother inquired, horrified.

After a split second of guilty shock, Chloe grinned and covered her footprints royally:

"My Portkey worked! Mamà, 'zis is Aldous." She then turned on her boyfriend with a exasperated expression. "What took you so long to open your present?"

"I met the wrong end of one of the Weasleys' jokes Christmas Eve and spent a little while in the Hospital Wing," the Chaser lied glibly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame Davies."

"Hey, I know you, the Gryffindor Chaser! What's the Slytherin defense been like this season?"

Chloe winked at Aldous, who smiled back and began to chat animatedly with her dad. 

'Men and Quidditch,' she thought with a sly grin. 

**************************************************************** 

"It was very nice meeting you, Mr. McPhersen," Mitchie said to Donaghan's grandfather. It had taken her quite awhile to get used to him, but the kilted gentleman had really been quite friendly.

Minus, of course, his reaction when Donaghan brought her home:

"And this mus' be yehr friend Mitch- bly'me, yeh're a gel!" Donalbein McPhersen turned on his grandson. "_Donaghan!"_

"Yeh, Granddad?"

"'Ave yeh no sense of decency whats'ever, boy? Yeh don' guh askin' lassies out to th' bloody Peatbog unchap'roned! It's unmoral!"

"Granddad, yeh're here, it's no' like I jes' asked 'er up t' th' Peatbog alone!"

"I guess yeh're righ', but yeh keep yeh intentions intentionable!" The translucent Scotsman, having finished lecturing his grandson, turned cheerfully to the American. "Donnie's wrote me 'bout yeh, lassie, jes' not some details. Yeh're from th' Colonies, aren't y?"

The Peatbog, as the McPhersen family residence was known, was a positively wonderful place, despite being inhabited mostly by ghosts. Donaghan and Mitchie were the only two living people there. It had been eerie at the first, Mitchie admitted that, but once you were used to everybody but your boyfriend and yourself walking through walls and being slightly see-through, it was very pleasant. Grandfather Donalbein had taken to like her immediately, especially when he discovered she played guitar. The ghostly patriarch was a master bagpiper, and his grandson's lack of aptitude in it was evidently a family touchy point. Old Scottish songs had positively haunted the surrounding sea and moors for the entire week. 

Bringing up Donaghan's being a werewolf was more difficult. By the fourth day, it didn't look like he would ever have the nerve, and Mitchie was just trying to talk him into it when a spectral owl arrived from Minister Dumbledore explaining everything. Donalbein wasn't too pleased at the start, but when Mitchie showed him her star and explained she was one as well, he seemed absolutely fine with it. In fact, Mitchie could have sworn his only qualm about lycanthropy was the belief that most werewolves were never able to marry.

Now that was a thought she found eerie, to say the least!

"Th' pleasure was all mine, lassie. Keep well, y'." Donalbein gave her and his grandson a benevolent grin before floating back up to the Peatbog to wave goodbye. "And fly careful, the mists are thick as soup t'night!"

Smiling, Donaghan helped Mitchie onto his broom and they flew back towards Hogwarts.

"I get th' impression 'e liked y', Mitch."

"D'you think so?"

"I kna' so. T'was wonderful."

Mitchie turned around a bit and kissed Donaghan on the lips. They spent the entire rest of the trip leaning together with his arms tight around her against the wind.

******************************************************************* 

The spell never took longer than a few seconds, probably because she was so used to it. The first day of classes after break could not be attended with raw bruises making her look like she ran into the wrong kind of willow tree. It was a simple enough spell and quite effective, provided noone used a different charm on the area she was covering. Thank whatever gods existed that the Hogwarts school uniform had a collar. 

Before she could finish concealing the ravages brought on by butterbeer before an inter-House holiday game, however, the doorknob rattled. Jen put down her wand. Best not to bother until she had all of them to cover. A new batch was sure to be added if the 'Alohomora' worked.

It did. Twenty minutes later, she had fixed everything but the pain and the swelling inside her cheeks. Noone would find out her dark secret.

*************************************************

A/N: Sorry these chapters are taking so damned long to upload, there's a server problem in my area.


	45. Dispellment

Chapter Forty-Five: Dispellment

Julie didn't want to cry. She knew she didn't want to yell, either. There wasn't really very much one could do in an instance like this without alerting one's parents, and that was the last thing she would ever do.

So she figuratively took a leaf out of Mitchie's book and began to scribble in her journal. It was a Muggle notebook, of course, and she was getting close to the end of available pages. Flipping back through it, Julie recalled her last three months at the orphanage, her brief liason with the Chaser, and the first time Malfoy had kissed her. There were also less conflicted memories detailed, such as the first 'full marks' she got in her father's class and the time she did a certain potion wrong. Christmas holidays had not been easy, at least not after she read the Americans' report. In a way she had the after-Christmas depression double this year, as it was also coupled with a profound sense of doom to come. Julie honestly didn't see a single way of her surviving the mission abroad.

It didn't help, of course, that she now had a thirtysomething professor who thought he was in love with her. Why, she hadn't even chosen her future career yet, much less her mate, and here was he, old enough almost to be her father. _Almost._ And it wasn't that Malfoy wasn't completely nice, it was the idea of his bloody _loving_ her that Julie found bothersome. What was the man thinking? Honestly!

The only bright spot in five pages of journal-writing was news of her sibling's impending birth. By now she was certain it would be a boy, despite her parents' if-this's and or-that's about Whoever's name. She had ventured a few suggestions, mostly boys' names, of course, but still the newcomer was still called 'whoever,' name completely undecided. Any kind of a junior had been ruled out, as both of her parents had very unusual ones in terms of spelling and origin, and for some bizarre reason Julie's father thought naming Whoever after her mother's mum was a splendid idea. Personally, both female Granger-Snapes thought anything with an 's' in it would be cruel, but then, they had had lisps until they were eight or so. 

"Aw-awwwk!" an owl said, landing on Julie's shoulder as if she were a perch. "Caw-aw!"

"Alright, owl, let's have the letter." Julie opened the envelope with a sidelong glance at the plaid jesses the owl seemed to be wearing. The grin widened into laughter when she saw the note.

It had been established long ago in a contest (judged by Chloe,) that Mitchie could draw better of the two. What the Yank had confided a bit later, however, was that she would much rather draw than write any time. Julie had actually read a bit of Mitchie's handwriting, and secretly suspected her friend of having mild dyslexia. Whatever the cause, however, Mitchie's notes were more often pictures than anything, and today's was no exception to her witty type. It was, in fact, a series of small pictures, including a fairly brutal caricature of Professor Snape teaching class with a Muggle playpen in the corner. Another depicted a Scottish gentleman flawlessly standing next to Donaghan, and until Julie realized the joke, it seemed almost a normal sketch. Mitchie had drawn Donaghan giving his grandfather 'bunny ears' to demonstate the patriarch's translucency. The third picture was downright hilarious if possibly nasty, a splendid likeness of Julie and Malfoy arguing.  Mitchie had neatly captured one of their best sidelong glances, but so subtly that only a person who suspected it anyway would know what the subjects were really thinking. The fourth sketch was positively unbearable.

"That damn yankee," Julie mumbled aloud, laughing.

It was a full-color drawing of what looked like a pair of ravens and a sparrow with an egg. The egg was cracking underneath the sparrow as both the large and small ravens observed it; clearly another of Mitchie's splendid allegorical cartoons. It was uncanny how the American manged to give a raven the exact look of Professor Snape.

"Miss me?" Mitchie asked, appearing at the door. 

"I missed you, but evidently your pencils didn't."

"Poor things, they just cried out to be set free. What d'you think of the letter?"

"Well, you wanted to tell me Donaghan's granddad's a ghost, you think I look like a raven, you expect fun in my dad's class after Whoever's born, and you spend more time staring at me and Malfoy's fights than you do at your own boyfriend."

"Do not," the American argued.

"Then how come Donaghan's Bludger scar's on the left 'stead of the right?"

"Uh, you remember too much?"

"Er, no. Somebody's been drawing things backwards."

"It's not like I don't draw everything that way. Look at which hand your scar's on as well." Sure enough, Julie had what looked like her right hand aimed at Draco threateningly with part of the star visible. "Backwards. I've got a mirror-mind."

"Is that why your writng's so godawful?"

"Mos' likely. I hate writing, easier to draw."

"Are all of your owls written in pictures?"

"Nope. This one's called Angus," Mitchie explained, pointing to the large bird, which flew over and perched on her outstretched arm. Julie sighed, as Mitchie had missed the meaning entirely.

"Nice to meet you, Angus, let my pet mice alone. Is he what Donaghan got you?"

"Sort of. He and his granddad. Julie, you would not believe Grandfather Donalbein! Not only's he a ghost, but he plays bagpipes and reads Robert Burns aloud!"

"Was there any alive-people food?"

"Yep. I tried haggis. It sort of tasted like what happens when you've only got one slice left of each kind of deli meat and make it all one sandwich."

"How fascinating. I think I'll skip dinner now."

"Oh, don't. We're having kippers."

"I think I _shall_ be sick."

"Hey, if it makes you fell any better, in two months or so we can get Cajun food."

"What?"

"Cajun food, y'know, New Orleans cooking?"

"Squid?"

Mitchie looked at her friend in surprise.

"Probably, I suppose we could find you some."

"Ecch."

"Well, aside from squid there's bourbon chicken and fried rice and this really lovely gold-colored sticky meat-"

"Sticky meat?" Julie asked, laughing.

"You know, kind of like General Tso's chicken? That's Chinese, though, maybe we should stop and find you poor Brits some of that."

"Is that all you think we're going to your damned country _for?"_

"Well, 'side from havin' t' off some de Dyablo guy, I suppose the trip's kind of open t'fun afterwards."

"Fun?" Julie asked rather bitterly. Mitchie smiled and tapped her on the head.

"Yes, Julie Snape, it's what you have when you put three witches in America with only y're Uncle Ron and Malfoy to chaperone. You remember fun, we had some over Christmas holidays, came in bottles."

"Did you even read the report, Mitchie?"

"What report? The one you had to write for Professor Binns?"

"No, Yank, the one that just arrived over break from America. Go see my dad, he's got our copy."

"Can I ask him to send it by owl? We'll be seeing him in class after lunch, won't we?"

"You know what, Mitchie? I _dare_ you to ask my dad something by owl."

"Deal." The American pulled out a bit of parchment and three pencils and began to draw, using Julie's back as a desk of sorts. "What does the report look like?"

"Fat envelope stuffed with parchments and photographs."

"One of those long ones, like the Muggle manila ones with the staply bit up top?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." A few flourishes and a scribbled signature later, Mitchie held up the drawing for Julie to see.

"You really don't like to write at all, do you?"

"Nope."

The picture was rather like a Muggle comic strip; showing Professor Snape with Angus on his arm, handing the report to the bird, and giving Mitchie and Julie a poisonous look in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Next to the last picture was drawn a watch showing the time when they had that on Mondays.

"Okay, so the translation of this is 'Dear Professor Snape, this is my owl, give him the report, see you later'?"

"Yep."

"I think that you may have spelled it wrong."

"It's perfectly understandable, though, isn't it?"

"If you think so, Mitch. Why don't you send the thing?"

"I will. Here y' go, Angus, take this to Professor Snape." The owl gave her a blank look and Mitchie pointed to Julie, then moved her friend's grown-out bangs so that cheek-length hair was indicated. "Him." The owl left.

"If that wasn't how I explained Dad to Anthony, I'd smack you one," Julie said, fixing her hair. "Why don't you draw something a little less offensive during study hall?"

"Like what? Tom and Tim draw those horrid stick figures detaching their heads to play Quidditch with, I would think that these were at least tolerable."

"Merciful peace, I had forgotten that! And you reminded me! I hope you eat the kippers."

"So do I. I think they're wonderful."

"Tell me they don't serve fish in America."

******************************************************************* 

"Dear?" Severus asked his wife at lunch. "What do you make of this?"

"I could make a hat, or a brooch, or a pterodactyl."

"What?"

Judy Parkington smiled.

"Sorry, Severus, Muggle reference. We had a film today and Hermione brought her class first period." 

"Oh. I mean the pictures."

"Looks like someone illiterate wrote you a note."

"Definitely Mitchie," Hermione observed. 

"I know it's Tyler, there's her signature. What's it mean?"

"Michelle draws, Severus. It means exactly what it shows."

"Good lord, not a repeat of her father, then. Am I to send my reply in pictures with the owl?" The professor gestured to the large bird hovering behind him expectantly.

"It looks rather like that envelope Ron got last week," Judy observed.

"Of course! She wants the report…why didn't she ask me normally?"

"And risk being yelled at or getting points taken off for being off-task in class?"

"She's got a point, darling. Clearly this is how she writes notes."

"Must be a Yankee thing," Severus sighed. He pulled the report from his bag and gave it to Angus, who flew it to the Gryffindor table immediately. "Her father liked to draw also, as I recall."

"Maybe you could tell her that after class."

"I don't want to make the Yank feel bad."

"Remember the time Minerva told Julie she flies like you? It won't make her feel bad."

"Alright, I'll do that, then. Will you be at the staff meeting after classes, then?"

"Of course, unless someone gets detention."

"You could always let Argus handle them."

"Dear, I respect Mr. Filch, I really do, but there's no force on earth that could make me consign students to his care."

"I was just going to ask you if you wanted to meet me in the library afterwards."

"If it's such a problem, Hermione, Ron could watch them," Judy supplied. 

"A splendid idea! Weasley's practically got his degree in detentions from me!"

"I'll just make sure noone gets detention, dear."

"Will it be Sedating Potions today, then?" Severus inquired wryly.

**************************************************************** 

Not two hours later, Professor Snape had decided that maybe sedating the students might not be such a bad idea. The fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors (why Minerva scheduled those two Houses together he had no idea besides her resenting him,) were learning the Expelliarmus spell. As a precaution against after-class scuffles, he assumed that splitting up the perennial pairs might be a good idea, as the Slytherins generally had to run so as not to be late for Professor Longbottom's Herbology, and most Gryffindors were going the other way for Muggle Studies or Arithmancy. It tended to reflect badly on him if half the Griffies wound up in the Infirmary from Slytherins cursing them.

"I don't think so, Mr. Weasleys," he said, splitting Tom and Tim and pairing each with a Slytherin. "I said each of you must pair with a different House." Jem and Jen Blodgett hurriedly looked for two remaining Gryffindors. "Don't _even_ try it," Snape told his real and foster daughters, who seemed as profoundly joined at the hip as the Weasleys sometimes. "You go with Jen, Tyler, and you with her brother, Starcatcher. I don't want any of you students trying to fake the spell."

_That_ made all the Gryffindors suitably ticked.

"Alright, on the count of three each of you will attempt to disarm your opponent with the Expelliarmus spell. Make certain you say it clearly, _Tyler,_ or we'll be wringing Mr. Filch's mop to find Blodgett."

Actually, Professor Snape was a little proud of that insult. It was really damnable that Yanks always found things like that funny, though. His own daughter looked fairly ready for justifiable parricide, but darned if Tyler wasn't struggling not to laugh. "On my count; one, two, _three!"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_ most of the class said. Wands flew in the air like peculiar missiles, being on occasion caught and on occasion impaled in the corkboard. The American, however, had mispronounced it direly, and Jen Blodgett had fled to a corner.

_"Finite incantatem!_ What's happened here?" Professor Snape rushed over to Mitchie and Jen. 

"I think I might have said the spell wrong, per'fessor," Mitchie confessed. Jen had he face hidden and her wand was nowhere to be seen. 

"And just how did you pronounce it?"

"Uh…'es'pelliairmus,' per'fessor, said the 'x' wrong, I guess."

"You've also incorrectly used the vowel, creating a dispellment charm. Let this be a lesson to you all to speak clearly if you have a thick accent!" Mitchie's cheeks burned, but Jen still wasn't showing hers. Professor Snape lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "Miss Blodgett, I assure you, you won't die if someone sees you without your makeup."

"But, professor-"

"Tell me that Yank didn't dispell your nose?" Snape asked, looking about the stone floor as if one might be underfoot somewhere. Jen reluctantly dropped her hands to her sides. "Merlin's nails! All four of you in my office NOW!"

"Which four do you mean, sir?" Tom Weasley asked.

"Starcatcher, Tyler and both Blodgetts, obviously. The rest of you, find your wands and begin reading pages 143 to 156. What you don't finish is homework."

The four he had requested obediently scurried into his office, at which point Jem, Julie, and Mitchie saw Jen Blodgett's face. As bad as Julie had looked after Matt Flint beat her up, this was very close, if not just as awful. 

_"Damn,_ Jen, I'm sorry," Mitchie said, thinking she had caused the bruises with her spell.

"You haven't done anything, Tyler. Miss Blodgett, do you care to explain how you got these bruises?"

Jen set her jaw and would say nothing. "Are you certain? Perhaps your brother has some idea." Jem, while clearly horrified by the extent of his sister's wounds, looked none too surprised and said nothing either. "Fine, then!" Professor Snape positively roared. "Julia! What's been going on between Gryffindor and Slytherin?"

"Dad, I swear, no Gryffindor guy would hit a girl like that. And if a girl did, I would know about it."

Julie's form of address convinced him she was being absolutely honest.

"You know of nobody?"

"Not in Gryffindor," Julie answered in a leaden voice. 

"Ah," Snape said, a short staccato phrase that spoke volumes. "I see. Mr. Blodgett, thank you for your –gifted testimony. I suggest you go rejoin your classmates and speak not of this incident. _Now." _

The instant Jem was gone, Snape appeared to relax, albeit looking more concerned. "Jennifer, I'm sure you understand my position here. _What happened?"_

"I've just been having a few accidents lately," the Slytherin lied.

"Er, Jen?" Julie asked a bit sarcastically before her father could. "Accidents don't tend to leave knuckle marks."

"So?" Jen inquired just as acidly.

"As I recall it, _you yourself said_ 'Slytherins tend to leave marks, -y'know'?"

"Jennifer," Professor Snape asked in a weary voice, "did someone in your House do this?"

"I'm not saying anything," Jen replied icily.

"Fine. Tyler, I suggest you do that Yankee spell."

"Which spell is-?" both Jen and Mitchie asked. Professor Snape answered them in a voice like satin.

"Oh, I'm sure you know which one I mean, Michelle. Jennifer, I'm assuming you've learned about the Cold War in History of Magic. The Americans perfected a spell form of truth enhancement similar in effect to Veritaserum, I'm certain you've heard of it-"

"Alright! Lyff!"

"What was that, Jennifer?"

"My boyfr- cous- Lyff did it."

"Lyfften Grudgett? Alright, I understand. Julia, please escort Jennifer to Madame Pomfrey's care. Tyler, if you could tell my class they are dismissed-?"

"Of course, per'fessor," Mitchie said, hurriedly stepping out to ensure everyone would be gone when Jen and Julie left.

"Professor Snape, please, I didn't mean to-" Jen started.

"I understand completely, Miss Blodgett. This is, actually, a fairly common occurrence among Slytherins. I can assure you it will not happen again, as I will deal with your adopted cousin as only I can. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you stayed with the Gryffindors. Their Head of House will take care of you. Now, please, go get those marks looked after."

Julie squeezed her dad's hand as she left with the Slytherin. Just as the darkhaired girls were leaving, the redheaded Yank returned. 

"Yes, Tyler?" Professor Snape inquired.

"Uh, per'fessor, I just thought I should warn you, I haven't the faintest clue how to do the Factus Facilitatus curse. It's something on the level of your Unforgiveables."

"I know that, Michelle," Professor Snape said, with the ghost of a smile using her name for the first time.

"But then why did you ask me to-"

"Jen Blodgett doesn't."

***************************************************************** 

A/N: It is my earnest hope that I can make up for the server's being down by uploading three chapters at once. Please, do review and let me know what I've done wrong or right.   
-J.McN.


	46. And Steel

A/N: I'm not sure precisely why I suddenly want to begin each chapter with a quote, but I suddenly do, so this I am doing henceforward. Here you go.

Chapter Forty-Six: And Steel

'I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain.'

-William Shakespeare, 'Much Ado About Nothing.'

"You might as well just say it, Starcatcher."

"Say what?"

Julie and Jen had been walking in rather unkind silence to Madam Pomfrey's when Jen lost her temper. For her own part, Julie had been ominously quiet in the manner of one who would like to ask something rather unpleasant but prefers to just force the subject into admitting everything. It was one of the tricks Jen found most disagreeable in her Head of House, and there was no way in hell she'd let this upstart Gryffindor get away with it.

"What do you want to call me, Starcatcher? Incestuous? Stupid? A slut, perhaps?"

"I wasn't going to call you anything."

"Oh, bollocks! You've been giving me weird looks since the drinking game."

"Well, one must admit, the bruises do make you look a little strange."

"Damn you and your dad to hell, Julie Snape!"

Julie actually managed to smile at that. Jen looked as if she might smack her.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't like him in class, either."

"Arrgh!"

Jen began to walk faster, as if to ditch Julie by outdistancing the Gryffindor. The Seeker, however, kept right up, even breaking into a run when Blodgett did. "Will you go away?"

"Nope. I don't want my dad to get mad at me."

The Slytherin stopped cold and looked at her exaggeratedly cheerful tormentor. 

"What the hell do you want, following me?"

Julie gave Jen her best psychotic juvie-bait grin.

"I want you to hit me as hard as you can."

For some dead perverse reason, Jen cracked up at that.

"What?"

"I said I want you to hit me as hard-"

"No, I heard you, it's just…"

Julie watched in surprise as the battered Slytherin succumbed to the hardest fit of laughter she'd ever seen.

"I'm assuming you once took Muggle Studies, then."

"Oh, yeah." Jen was wiping tears from her good eye. "I just pictured…you _so_ don't want to know."

"Come on! Was it funny?"

"Well, you saw 'Fight Club', right?"

"Yeah." 

Jen started walking again, but not before shaking a lock of Julie's hair in her face.

"Black hair and skinny. You fill in the blanks."

Now it was Julie's turn to be ticked.

"Hey!"

"You're the one quoting Brad Pitt movies."

"And you're such a great one to talk, Blodgett! Your hair's as dark as mine and you- well, you-"

Jen stopped and gave Julie a nasty grin.

"Yeah, I get beat up and I'm skinny, too. Why don't you just up and ask me how close it is?"

Julie swallowed hard and her eyes widened. "Bingo. 'Ent y' glad your dad put y' in Gryffindor?"

"I had no idea how glad until now, Jen. You aren't goin' back."

"Do you honestly think I can switch Houses? I'll be back in the Serpent's Den inside o' two hours."

"Not if I let my dad know what's going on."

The taller girl turned on the Gryffindor.

"You've been waiting your whole goddamn life to say somethin' like that, right?"

"Well, sort of. A long time of it I didn't think I 'ad a father."

"Great news, Griffie. You do an' he's my Head of House. Still, I don't think he'd want to find out just who you've been seeing from Slytherin."

Julie went paler.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I can and I would. S'it a stalemate, then?"

"What makes you think my dad'd trust you over me?"

"Somethin' you might not've considered, Julie, he's known me four years longer than 'e's known you. Your mum might take your side, but not old Snape."

"You are -not nice, d'you know that?"

"S'a matter, Griffie? Can't say 'a bitch'?"

"I don't think you need to be called that any more than your cousin has."

"Hey! How do you know what Lyff calls me?"

"Er, my family's kind of known for the logic thing."

"Look, you leave my affairs out of this!"

"Funny you throw the word 'affair' around like that-"

"Speak for yourself, your banging Flint's quite as bad as me n' Lyff."

_"Flint?!_ I am not banging Flint, Blodgett!"

"Really? Guess I guessed wrong. He must just carry a torch for you."

_"Yuck!"_

"Look, a lot of girls think he's really cute."

"A lot of girls thought Guy Fawkes was dishy too!"

"Who?"

"Oh, nevermind! Matius Flint's the most disgusting human I have ever laid eyes on."

"Wow, even against Voldemort?"

"Probably."

Approximately three seconds passed and both girls collapsed into giggles again. Fortunately, they were right at Madam Pomfrey's door.

"And what seems to be the problem, today, Julie? Oh, my heavens, best get those fixed. You must be Jeremy Blodgett's twin, haven't seen you since your second year. Tell me, how did you get these bruises?"

"Er…" Jen faltered. Julie gave her a look and she cracked up again.

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey, she's been like this all day."

"Jennifer, have you been drinking?"

"No, ma'am, Julie's just-" Starcatcher made a face and Jen succumbed back to hapless giggling. When Madam Pomfrey turned, however, Julie looked genuinely concerned for the Slytherin. "Honestly, she keeps making faces at me-"

"I expect she's probably been at the cannabis," Julie said demurely. 

"The _what?"_ Madma Pomfrey inquired in horror.

That was too much. Both pale, dark-haired girls were absolutely insensible for close to four minutes. "Really, if it isn't Tom and Tim Weasley coming up here with boils all over God-knows-what, it's lookalikes stoned as Jim Morrison."

"Madam Pomfrey! You know who Jim Morrison is?" Julie asked in surprise.

"Your mother doesn't hold the patent on Muggle music, you know, Julie. A lot of us Ravenclaws were very fond of the Doors back in '69. Really, there you two go again. How long ago were these bruises made, Jennifer?"

"I'd say about a day and a half or so."

"Honestly, you Slytherins and your hide-it-all attitude. If you don't bring me the injury when it's done, I've got no choice but to patch these all internally. Hold still."

The mediwitch began rapidly wanding at Jen's bruises, but to Julie's shock, the treatment only darkened them. "Now there's use trying to cover these, you have to let them finish out and fade away properly. My word, those aren't knuckle marks-?"

"Er, thanks, Madam Pomfrey," Jen interjected, getting up to leave. Her face now resembled the after-effects of Julie's fight with Matius Flint. "Really, they don't hurt a bit, now. Thanks."

"Just a minute, young lady!" Madam Pomfrey cried. "Either you tell me what happened or I call your Head of House."

"He already knows, ma'am, sent me to take Jen here." Julie had ceased to giggle completely.

"Ah. So you did this?"

"No, ma'am, Julie had nothing to do with this." Jen had drawn herself up to her full height of maybe three inches taller than Julie. "I and my boyfriend had a bit of an argument. I assure you you will not be seeing me again for the same reason."

"How many times has this happened, Jen?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her normally cheerful face drawn in shock. Something in her tone made Jen reply:

"Er, rather a lot more than I'd like, actually."

"Dad's taking care of it," Julie added.

"He's the best person to take charge of such matters," the mediwitch said numbly. "I must advise you to part company with an abusive suitor, Jennifer."

There was a profound silence in which Jen saw her reflection in the mirror.

"I will, ma'am."

***************************************************************** 

"Sorry I'm late," Severus announced, taking his seat at the faculty meeting. "I had a bit of a discipline problem in Slytherin."

"Which was it, hazing or pranks on the Gryffindors?" Judy asked jokingly.

"An abusive relationship, actually," Professor Snape said in the direst tone imaginable. "Minerva, would you call that grounds for expulsion?"

"I'd have to notify the school governors. Which-"

"Grudgett's been beating his girlfriend since her third year. How I didn't notice it…I don't know."

Severus was clutching the armrest of his chair so hard his knuckles were white. Hermione touched his arm, and he took her hand. Professors Longbottom and Potter looked outraged.

"Who's the girl?" Harry asked, his tone as severe as Snape's.

"Jennifer Blodgett," Severus explained shortly. "About that, Hermione, I've sent her to stay with the Gryffindors. Is that-"

"Of course."

"So, what were you discussing before I got here?"

"Oh, nothing so explosive, just a shift in faculty. Professor Thomas is taking Potions over for Hermione," Severus smiled at Dean, "and Judy Parkington will be the temporary Muggle Studies teacher for him."

"What an excellent choice, if slightly typecasting. Do you plan to teach any Shakespeare, Judy?"

"Do you plan to intimidate whole classes? Is the sky up?"

"Ah, good. Sonnets or plays?"

"Some of each. I've also outlined an entire unit on Simon & Garfunkel."

"What fun," Snape said sarcastically. "It's a pity Julia and Michelle aren't in your class."

"I've been wondering about that. Why aren't they?"

"Because, Judy, _somebody_ insisted that their daughter challenge herself," Hermione said with a friendly grin. "You wouldn't want her in there to debate with you, anyway."

"I can remember the first fight I had with Julie in class…"

"So can we," Severus and Hermione said in unison.

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting."

"So, when do you want me to go on leave?" Professor Granger asked.

"Whenever you get bored with it, 'Mione," Dean Thomas said with a tolerant smile. "My class is in the middle of their Muggle Food unit, I'd like a chance to get the room cleaned up before Judy takes over."

"What were they studying?" the Muggle teacher inquired.

"Crisps and dip were what they liked best. Franks went over pretty well, also. The reports on different kinds of soda made me laugh, though."

"Can I take them on a field trip in mid-April?" 

"I don't see why not. Depends where to, Judy." Professor McGonagall had decided she liked Ron's fiancee a lot.

"There's a fairly good art house on the corner of Dennon and Lockwood Street, and every year on Baz Luhrmann's birthday they have a film marathon-"

"If you bring back the fourth-years bursting into song," Professor Snape threatened.

"Well, there's also the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of _'The Importance of Being Earnest'_ by Oscar Wilde."

"I don't suppose you want a chaperone?"

The change in Severus's attitude made all of the teachers laugh. "Hey, he's one of the most gifted playwrights of the nineteenth century."

"But coming from you, dear, it's quite funny," Hermione pointed out. "It's rather like Dumbledore saying he likes Chuck Palahniuk."

******************************************************************** 

Even at the Drama Club, most students got homework:

"We will be studying the sonnet in performance shape, so I want each of you to compose one anonymously about a person you care about. We will then choose them at random and read them at our next meeting. With regard to the Bard's greatest comedy, I was impressed sufficiently with our last production. It is time to move on to another form; the musical. So, are there any suggestions for our next play?" Judy asked.

The Three Witches and Jen Blodgett grinned broadly, having waited for this since lunchtime. Tom and Tim Weasley and Donaghan were also in on it. Mitchie raised her hand. "Yes, Michelle?"

"I suggest _'The Rocky Horror Show.'_"

"Er…I don't think we really have the cast for that…"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Julie chimed, pointing around to various actors. "He could be Riffraff, she could be Magenta, I think I could learn to tap-dance, and-"

"I think I had something a little more classical in mind, Julie. Chloe, you have a suggestion?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think we should do _'Sweeney Todd.'_"

"No, I don't think…yes, Jennifer?"

"How about _'Best Little Whorehouse In Texas'_?"

_"No."_ Judy was starting to look more hounded. "Donaghan?"

"'Ow 'bout _'Rent'_?"

"Well, that's a _bit_ better."

"Yeah. Not so many transvestites in that," Mitchie joked. _"'Miss Saigon'_?"

"Decidedly not."

_"'La Cage Aux Folles'_?" Chloe asked hopefully. "Professor Malfoy would be positively splendid as-"

"What about _'Tommy'_?" Julie asked, meanwhile giving Chloe the _look_ from hell. "We could buy a pinball machine for the Muggle Studies room."

"Are you all on a crusade to do the most sordid musicals in history?"

_"'Sweet Charity'_?" Tom and Tim offered in unison.

"_'Cabaret'_?" suggested Jennifer.

"What about _'Pippin'_?"

"Look, we are doing _nothing_ directed by Bob Fosse!"

"How about _'Assassins'_ by Sondheim then?"

Judy looked like she might have cast an Unforgivable Curse on the lot of them -had she not been a Muggle. This was, of course, part of the Griffies' plan. A few more outrageously inappropriate pieces were offered, just to get Miss Parkington to the point where she would agree to _anything_ just to make it stop. Finally, Donaghan suggested the one they really wanted:

"Would _'A Little Night Music'_ be too hard to do?"

"No! That's perfect! We're doing that!"

Everyone who had been in on the plot burst into applause and cheers, as did many of the faculty members. Auditions were set for the next meeting, Mitchie and Julie brought scripts and scores almost out of nowhere, as they had had it all planned, and everyone from Chloe to Tim announced her intentions for roles. 

It was only fifteen minutes later that Judy remembered just what Sondheim's masterpiece was about.

Well, it was still a damn sight better than _'Sweeney Todd'_, she decided with a sigh, as she gathered up her things to go back to Gryffindor Tower. It was then that she ran into Professor Snape.

"I assume you heard about what we're doing next?"

"Cast _either_ of my daughters as Petra," he said sternly, "and you will have more to worry about than sordid subject matter in your plays."

"But Severus," Judy said jokingly, "Julie's been after that part since she was ten."

"I know," he said with a dire look.

******************************************************************** 

Dinner was a fairly marvelous affair at the Gryffindor table. Scripts were everywhere, and food had been wolfed down in the first ten minutes. Donaghan and Chloe were reading the scene between Fredrika and Henrik, with Mitchie rehearsing to audition for Anne Egerman. Julie and Jen worked with the Yank on the end of Act One, reading, of course, Petra and Charlotte respectively. Tom and Tim both rather wanted to be Carl-Magnus, even though they didn't expect to be cast for it, and Hannah had already learned all of Grandmother Armfeldt's most acidic lines.

The improptu rehearsal went beautifully for quite awhile, until Jem Blodgett wandered over to talk to Jen.

"May I have a word with you, _dear_ sister?" Jem inquired.

"No. That's a word. Now be on your way."

"I don't think you want to eat with the Gryffindors from now on, not unless you want every Slytherin in the place to know what you really are."

"A half-Squib's twin sister? I think they know by now."

"A traitor to your kind, eating with Mudbloods and dogs." Jem slapped Mitchie's shoulder as one might a Saint Bernard and Donaghan stood, pulling out his wand.

"I've got it, Scottie," Julie said in a leaden voice, rising. "Listen, Blodgett. Jen's not going to get hit any more. Not by Grudgett, and not by you. Give it up. If you can't make it through Defense Against the Dark Arts without your sib, I suggest trying to apologize."

"I'm not apologizing to that turncoat."

"Then get yourself back to the snakes before we send you," Mitchie said, standing with her wand drawn.

"Threats, Tyler? Down, girl," Lyff Grudgett said. Despite barely being able to look Jen in the face, he had advanced. "Which one of these made you rat out to Snape, Jenny?"

"Noone made me, Lyff. I think you know what happened."

It was obvious that Jen was beginning to buckle and every one of Julie and Mitchie's friends rose to back her up, Mack the Chaser included.

"Get out of here, Grudgett," he said quietly.

"Oh, so you know about her tricks as well? I wondered just how far she had taken you. What did you think of that thing she does with her teeth?"

"Get _out,"_ Mack repeated, actually advancing on Grudgett. 

"That's alright, Mack," Jen said, rising to face her tormentor. "What's the matter, Lyff? Don't like to look at your handiwork? Professor Snape's got your number, now, and unless I sorely miss my guess, you won't be dating anyone until you graduate, if then. Traitor or not, I am _done with you."_

"You little whore-"

There was a sound like pancakes frying and then Lyff fell with a groan. Professors Snape and Malfoy finally appeared beside the Gryffindors.

"Which one of- oh, I see." 

Everyone had their wand drawn and the smoke had fanned so that determining who had cast what was impossible. Chloe, however, raised her hand, smiling, before Mitchie nudged her.

"Miss Delacour-Davies?" Malfoy asked.

"I tried that new charm you taught us in class today, sir," she said with her best 'aren't-I-cute' smile. 

"Nicely done, Chloe. Two points to Gryffindor."

"Twenty points off for the lot of you, no curses in the Great Hall," Snape added, giving Malfoy a look of wry amusement. "MacAndrew, fifteen for chivalry, and ten apiece to each of you who stood up for Ms. Blodgett. I am in the process of transferring her permanently to your House."

This news brought on applause as Jem slunk away. Jennifer watched her twin depart with an indefinable expression of loss mixed with relief. "I suggest everyone who has finished dinner return to their Common Room."

There was a decidedly cheery look on the Gryffindors' faces as they entered the Common Room. By then, of course, they had all been comparing which curses each had done on Lyfften, and Jen had returned from her silent reverie. Tom and Tim beat a hasty trail back from the kitchens with 'party food' gotten from the house-elves, and Mitchie brought forth a three-liter of thorn soda. 

"And now, a' senior prefect o' Gryffindor," Donaghan announced, "it's m' proud duty t' welcome Jennifer Blodgett inter' the Lions' Den." 

"Initiation time!" Tom suggested.

"Oh, gads, cousin, not in such a state!" Julie protested.

"Bring it on, Griffies," Jen challenged boldly.

Mitchie shook her head in disgust, knowing what was coming.

"Jennifer Blodgett, thine sacred initation rite into the House of Gryffindor shall be…" Tim paused for dramatic effect. "The Revelation Rite!"

"Honestly, have you _got _any other ones?" Mitchie inquired.

"I'm assuming they did this to you as well?" Jen asked her.

"We do it to everyone who comes in after their first year. Julie and Mitchie were the only ones so far this term."

"Thy rite is to divulge a funny anecdote dating from thy childhood, preferably one in which thou wert not the hero."

"Don't feel bad, Jen, I had to tell them about my first time on a broom," Mitchie said. "I fell off and broke my ankle in three places. It was hilarious."

"And I had to tell them about getting caught after-hours in the library. I was on detention for two weeks, hated every minute of it."

"What book was so interesting you couldn't leave?" Jen asked. Julie blushed furiously and whispered in her ear. _"Oh."_

"I didn't tell them _that_ bit, though."

"Alright. I suppose the funniest anecdote from my youth…ah, yes. I was seven years old and my father had left his wand lying about. So I decided to attempt my first spell."

"What happened?" Chloe asked, grinning with suspense.

"Well, there happened to be lying near the wand a fairly hefty tome, _'Beginner's Guide to Divination,' _by Sibyll Trelawney, if my memory serves."

"Ay, Jen, that doth be a hefty tome indeed. Continue."

"Well, knowing I with the wisdom of innocents that Father only used that particular book as his favorite doorstop, it seemèd me a noble goal to make it fly." Jen stood and began to act out the tale with her wand out. "The wand was aimed, the spell uttered, and damned if I didn't 'wingardium leviosa' out my front teeth!"

The Gryffindors burst into peals of laughter. "Of course, I was elated to lose mine before Jem did, but _still_, Daddy was awfully pissed when the owl came from the Ministry."

"A noble tale and brilliant told!" Tim announced. "Let the bottle be op'd above the new Lion's head and all drink to our new Gryffindor!"

The thorn soda was brought, shaken well, and opened with suitable results by Chloe and Donaghan. Foam and froth issued forth, inundating Jennifer well and making her smell a bit like vanilla beans. When the Head of House looked in from the portrait hole to get the Three Witches for 'rehearsal,' she was pleased to see how nicely her students had accepted the bruised Blodgett as one of them. There was something in the chivalrous nature of Griffie boys that made her just a bit gladder Julie had not gone to Slytherin.

*************************************************************** 

"Let me guess, Lyff, it was _her_ again?"

Flint was sitting in the fireplace-facing armchair that had been Malfoy's, listening like a king as his subjects slunk in one by one to the Slytherin Common Room. At present, he was alone with Lyff Grudgett. "Honestly, that little Mudblood's brought all of the Slytherin men to their knees."

"Not that you'd call Alexei a man," Lyff agreed. "Even Snape's getting all cuddly with the Gryffindors. He's honestly talked of expelling me."

"As is his right. You made the first mistake in this case. What you did to Jen was unliveable."

"I can't believe you're-"

"Silence, Lyff. If you had treated that girl like a gentleman, she wouldn't have _had_ bruises for Snape to find. I have eyes everywhere. She didn't rat you out, the Yank accidentally dispelled her cover illusion."

"I suspected that."

"And now the entire school's going to look at your handiwork and _know_ just what they think goes on in the Serpent's Den. You've blown quite a lot in the past few days."

"Oh, like you haven't, beating up Starcatcher!"

"That, as you well know, is different. Appearing in her Quidditch robes caused her to be considered the team Seeker, nothing more. Commanding our Keeper not to foul in proper manner caused Slytherin House to take offense from her. Were she not as she is, a beautiful female, I would have done the same, maybe worse."

"She's _not_ that pretty, you know, Matius."

"Your taste in women was always questionable. Unlike you, I _don't_ like to keep it in the family."

"Come off it! She's nothing but a rake-ribbed Cockney Muggle with a wand and scar!"

"She is the bravest and most powerful witch since Narcissa Malfoy! Can't you see that? She's got curse magic immunity and a scar from You-Know-Who's servant himself."

"Her father's _Snape,"_ Grudgett pointed out.

"And Snape's powerful. With such a witch on my arm I could rule Britain. Albus Dumbledore can't do it forever, you know."

"He's got that Muggle-loving inventor next in line, you know that."

"If Starcatcher had been put in Slytherin, she would be mine. You saw how quickly McPhersen had her at his side. Powerful females, especially from important families, _always_ wind up with their senior prefects."

"Are you forgetting she's half Muggle-born?"

"So are you and so was Potter. _That_ makes no difference. Professor Granger was powerful enough for You-Know-Who to want her kidnapped at age seventeen. There's a lot to be had by getting Starcatcher."

"Even if her daddy put her in Slytherin tomorrow, you'd never get her. She hates your guts."

"'If not by honest means,' remember? This is Slytherin."

"Oh, so you're going to force her to love you?" Grudgett asked sarcastically.

"Not love. Just…obey, at least." Flint's misaligned teeth formed a gruesome leer. "You saw what happened when you and your cousins insulted her. Who was it that punished you?"

"Malfoy."

"Of course." Flint's evil grin widened. "Don't you get it?"

Lyfften Grudgett suddenly realized what was going on and his beady eyes lit up.

"You mean Malf-"

"Shh! The walls have ears. I believe," Matt began, "that our bane has a weakness just like her mother."

"So what do you think?"

"I think," Flint said coldly, looking at his half-friend, half-servant in disgust, "that a little bit of the dark owl is in order."

****************************************************************** 

A/N: For those readers not familiar with Sondheim's play, _'A Little Night Music'_ is considered one of the more racy operatic comedies, based on Ingmar Bergman's 1956 film 'Smiles of a Summer Night,' which won Best Film overall at Cannes in its' year. It should be mentioned that the character of Petra is considered the second-biggest slut in all of Sondheim's work, and with most of the work's best comedic lines and easily the most fascinating solo in Act Two, the most coveted semi-ingenue role.

Okay, for all who don't speak actorish, Julie wants the fun, slutty part to take her mind off things. What the Griffies did to Miss Parkington is a common trick on school theatre directors, one most notably employed when my friends and I wanted _not_ to do _'Fiddler on the Roof' _for the fourth time. In the interests of space and according to school tradition of naming particular student cliques, Julie, Mitchie, and Chloe are now referred to as the 'Three Witches,' an especially ironic pun for all who have read _'Macbeth.'_ It is my sad duty to inform you that I have mysteriously turned into a pompous twit after having to write dialogue with Lyff and Flint, and I shall now excuse myself to the fridge to eat a strawberry. Reviews of this latest tripe would be much liked.

-Jan McNeville, Non-Professional Tripemonger


	47. An Emergency

A/N: Sorry these things take so long. When one uses actual humans to test dialogue on, sometimes you run out of them and have to buy new ones –no! Wait! That's not right…where do I get my humans? Oh, yeah, I remember. I frolic around chatrooms, pick the brain of my poor beta reader until she just up and solves whatever problem I have without further ado, and talk with relatives at home. Sounds easy enough, but- naw, it kinda is. Ah, well. Any complaints about this chapter's storyline may be addressed to me, and if they are good ideas, I will implement them, and if not, Shara Michelle and I will merely laugh our heads off at them later. J. Here you go.

Chapter Forty-Seven: An Emergency

'You ask me if there'll come a time when I'll grow tired of you. Never, my love…You wonder if this heart of mine will lose it's desire for you. Never, my love…What makes you think love will end when you know that my whole life depends on you?'

            -The Association, ©1967 Tamerlane Music.

"So, how have you been, my dear?"

"Honestly! You saw me last night, Draco!"

This was how Malfoy liked Julie best, smiling and ready for any excuse to have a lively argument. Lately, she had been distracted and even dire, presumably worrying about the mission. Since the announcement of the Drama Club's next undertaking, though, she had cheered up considerably. Draco made a mental note to stop beating himself up for suggesting it. He kissed Julie gently on the lips.

"I always miss you when you go away."

"To sleep and then to breakfast, then two classes?"

"Speaking of, are you sure noone will notice you're cutting lunch?"

"Mitchie's covering for me if anybody asks."

_"She knows?"_ For a moment, Draco went white as a sheet. The idea of the Yank trusted with everything he had come to hold so dear was not the nicest one in the world. 

"Since _'Much Ado About Nothing,'_ actually."

"She figured it out?" That was even worse. The idea of it being so obvious was…well, several obscenities came to mind.

"No, it was an exchange of dire secrets. She won't tell, trust me."

"I can trust you. Merlin knows 'bout Americans."

"That's my almost-sister you're ragging on, there. And are you so certain you can trust me?" Julie gave Draco her best Slytherinish look. "I mean, after all, I am the treacherous Dark Lady."

"Only a role, Julie. You aren't Dark."

"Well, I'm the one and only Gryffindor day-tripper."

"One and only what?"

"I dated two guys at once, you included."

To Julie's amazement, Draco didn't even look stung.

"That's incredibly common in Slytherin. And you can't afford to be exclusive the way I can. I don't mind if you see other guys."

That was a lie, actually, seeing Julie talk with Donaghan at meals had been like watching a wolf circle your pet bunny…only worse. The idea of Julie not staying with him was too horrible to think about, but Draco knew she needed her freedom. 

"Are you sure, Draco? I'd kind of rather not, just…don't _know_ why, just don't want to look around when I've got you."

"Julia, you're not even quite sixteen years old. I don't want you to regret anything by sticking to a man twice your age."

"Draco, would you _please_ quit saying that?" Julie asked, decidedly put out. "You aren't any more twice my age than Mitchie is! Am I like any sixteen-year-old you've ever met?"

There was an uneasy silence as Draco nodded. Instantly Julie knew which he meant and within seconds she had departed wordlessly. He tried calling after her, but knew it was useless. He was a fool. Even had the circumstances not been as they were, there was no surer way to lose a girlfriend than by saying she reminded you of her mother.

It occurred to him that the resemblance had nothing to do with why he loved Julie. And yes, it was love now, he was certain. He didn't even especially like Hermione until she was married to Severus, and even then, they were more likely to argue than speak nicely. Draco was still a little confused by the idea of Julie really being their child. It wasn't her resemblances to her parents he'd fallen for, but rather the beautiful, intelligent, clever and yet so fragile girl or woman she was growing up to be. Had he lost her now?

What he wanted to know now was why he wasn't bothered by her age or family anymore. When he'd met her, the feeling of near-incestuousness was so thick you could slice it, but at some point after he, Severus and Harry, had taught her to fly she had proven herself equal to all his years. When the two of them were alone with Severus, even, Draco couldn't help but feel as if it were right and pre-ordained. The professor was more of a surrogate father than a friend usually, and if Draco really admitted it Hermione was actually important to him as well now, and not just by virtue of her loving his mentor. She had accepted him first among all of those touched by the war save Snape and Dumbledore himself as not evil and even worth liking. If there was anything Julie had gotten from her that he liked, it was the sense of boundless affection to comfort anyone. 

But these kinds of thoughts were useless with Julie mad at him. Taking his favorite quill from where it perched by the inkwell on his desk, Draco started work on his sonnet for Judy's drama club, knowing that was when he would see her next but for Charms class this afternoon. He was not looking forward to her treating him like she did her dad in class that day, for it was certain she would when she was put out with him. 

*****************************************************************

Julie walked into lunch ten minutes late and joined her friends. Only Mitchie gave her a quizzical eyebrow, to which she responded with a look somewhere between exasperation and perfect hate. The Yank adjusted her glasses. She understood.

"Did you finish your paper, then?" Jen asked her.

"Paper? Oh, yeah. It's a little bit harder than usual since I've spent more time memorizing lines."

"We were just talking about decorating Jen's new room over the holiday," Chloe said. "Did you ever get around to doing yours?"

"Decorate? I thought they sort of came pre-decorated."

At this, Chloe made a superior French face.

"Fine, then, we'll have to do yours as well. Maybe if you coordinate the colors with the Castle of Ferretage…"

"Chloe, wouldn't Mitchie's room be better?"

The Yank grinned and Chloe made yet another face.

"I've seen _that _excuse for decorating…frankly, I'd just rather not go in there."

Julie smiled at last. Mitchie's room was decorated in the traditional American style known as 'hole-in-the-wall chic.' The principle was that it had been developed in rooms where plaster occasionally fell off the walls, so the decorator covered every available inch with posters, photographs, and the like. Julie suspected that her friend had taken it a bit too far in the excess of freedom from her foster parents, who had not let her put up so much as a _'Days of Future Passed'_ cover, and indeed, walking into Mitchie's room was a bit like a field trip to Spencer Gifts. There was blacklight, there was a lava lamp, there was a sort of semi-altar devoted to pictures of her parents, her long-passed-away collie, and what Julie thought looked like a more mismatched London had England's capital been situated at the intersection of three rivers. It was definitely not up to Chloe's high standards of taste.

"Do you have some objection to my room, Chloe?" Mitchie asked, smiling.

"Yes."

"Good. It's about time it offended somebody. Everyone else here just seems to be fascinated."

"Oh, so the point of that black hole's to offend people?" Chloe asked in her superior way.

"Precisely, it's exactly to my tastes and noone else's. Would you believe Donaghan likes it in there?"

"And just how much time does he spend behind your door?" Jen asked. Mitchie reddened slightly and shrugged.

"I've been getting some help with History of Magic. Binns keeps putting me to sleep and the book's just…well, it's hard as hell to read the entire text."

"But if you weren't a werewolf, you could still pet the unicorns?" Jen persisted, her head twitching a little at the neck. "I just have a little bit of a theory I'm curious on."

Mitchie looked sort of guilty.

"Well, it's certainly not for lack of wanting to…but wolves mate for life, so I kind of can't unless I want to be stuck with him for life."

"Really? And you, Chloe?" Jen inquired. The French girl shook her head without the slightest change of expression.

"I'm _twelve."_

"Starcatcher?"

"Never had the inclination or the time."

"Okay, my theory's proved. Gryffindors shag less than Slytherins."

"Wasn't that kind of obvious?" Chloe asked. Jen sighed, half-ruefully, half-amused.

"If you were a Slytherin, Frenchie, pretty as you are with that blond hair, I doubt if you'd have lasted up 'til your twelfth birthday. Snape, I don't think even your dad could've protected you. And Wolfy, well, you might have had to bare that star a little bit, but even that wouldn't hold them off forever. It's really kind of better in Gryffindor."

"Kind of?" Chloe asked in abject horror. "First-years…?"

"Some. Most girls lose it in fourth-year or earlier. And the guys…well, unless they're pure-blooded enough to tuck it back a bit, most of them get used for sport by the older girls within their first four years. It's been that way for years beyond, I'm told."

"And you…?" Mitchie was bold enough to ask. Jen counted what year she had been in and leaned on her hand with the fingers showing so Chloe wouldn't realize. The werewolf's eyes grew wide and she swallowed. "Cripes, you were…Jen, I'm-"

"Shocked?"

"Well…sorry's the word that springs right to mind."

"Aw, don't be. It's just a matter of norms and what house you're in." For some reason, this made everyone look at Julie. Suddenly Mitchie grinned.

"Didn't your dad give the word to put you in Gryffindor?"

And the heavy atmosphere was shattered by laughter just before an owl landed on Julie's head and began to nip at her white streak.

"What are you…oh, thank you." Julie gave the post owl a bit of piecrust and it flew off. "A letter from the Muggle transfer address…must be either Grandma or one of my Broughton mates."

"Your grandmother's Muggle?" Mitchie asked.

"Yeah, she and Grandpa both, they're dentists."

"You have got to be joking me!"

"No, really, they're Muggles. My mum's parents."

"Dentists in _England?"_ Mitchie asked, grinning. Julie shot her a look of mild distaste.

"Why does that explain a lot of the minty way you and your mother smell?" Jen asked. "If Lyff ever brushed his teeth, half of them'd come off."

"It's from Ros…she's being adopted by the worst people imaginable."

"Who's Ros?"

"Rosaline Quartertil, my friend from Broughton." Julie handed Mitchie the letter to read, but the Yank passed it to Jen.

" 'Dear Julie, I have a minor catastrophe. Some people from near Cardiff want to adopt me and I don't want to go. Honestly, Jules, they're awful. I know they just want me to take care of their kid, who's annoying as hell. Miss Parkington's gone, so if you could please think of some way to jinx it up? I don't want to leave Broughton two years before I go free. Jack said he saw you around Christmas and says hello. Deus dona nobis pacem, sincerely, -Rosaline. P.S. How are your parents treating you?'" Jen put down the letter a second and looked at Julie oddly. "Miss Parkington?"

"We went to the same orphanage, she used to teach there before she met Uncle Ron."

"I thought it was weird she seemed to know you."

"Didn't you see the tapes of Julie's old Drama Club?" Mitchie asked. Jen shook her head, which was twitching again.

"Nope. Couldn't hide some that day." She indicated her still-purple bruised face. "So this Muggle needs you to come bail her out?"

"Yeah, I guess that'd be the best way to do it…" Julie said, apparently deep in thought. "I don't suppose Slytherins cut class often?"

"You're going to miss Charms, Julie? …oh, yeah." Mitchie looked suddenly eager for adventure. "Need some company?"

"I was going to ask the two of you to come…Chloe, please don't be offended, but you're still a first-year and your parents are in the send-Howler capacity."

"I've got an exam, actually, and I won't be offended if you let me redecorate your room."

"This weekend?" Julie offered, holding out her hand. 

"Done."

"Jen, if you don't want to," Julie started.

"They've already sent me a Howler for dropping Lyff. They haven't written since they heard I changed Houses. There's no problem there."

The Griffie girls gave Jen sympathetic or outraged looks. 

"That's inhuman."

"That's Slytherin politics. When do we sneak out?" Julie looked at her watch.

"Lunch's almost over. I'm going to write Mum a note saying where we're going, we'll get our coats, and go."

"Coats?" Jen asked. "I've only got winter robes."

"Don't worry, I've got a spare that should fit you," Mitchie offered. "Our school uniforms should be alright, right, Julie?"

"Right. By the way, Jen, the gold-and-red does suit you."

"Thanks, Starcatcher." Jen still wasn't comfortable using Julie's given name. Actually, Mitchie's uniform was the first one she'd ever owned, and her tie was perpetually too loose and her collar never done up past her collarbone. Jen's, by contrast, was vaguely military in the way she maintained a state of complete order about her clothes. The only things she and the Yank had in common were green eyes and a similar nose and jaw. Julie had the middle ground, with only slight deviations from perfection in her uniform. Together and without black robes over top, they might have passed for almost any other English school. After sending the note of their whereabouts to Professor Granger via Angus, they took off on broomsticks for Cobham, London.

It was uncanny the way all of them looked related.

************************************************************* 

"Daddy, I want crisps," a small boy whined.

"Later, Vernon," his father promised. "As soon as we've got your big sister's papers signed."

The 'big sister' in question scowled even darker than she had been. Vernon began to howl.

"I don't want a big sister! I want crisps _now!"_

"Dudley, I can handle the paperwork," his mother offered. "Why don't you go find a shop and get the boy some crisps?"

"Alright, Gara." The paunchy man kissed his much prettier than expectable wife on the cheek. Rosaline thought she detected a slight cringe there, and Gara had yet to call her son Vernon anything but 'The Boy.' She would be damned if she'd go live in a house with this unholy trio, though Gara had an air of discontentedness about her Rosaline felt sympathetic to.

"Rosaline, how do you spell your surname?" the woman asked.

"Quartertil, just the way it sounds, one 'l'."

"However did you come by it, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I was found on the steps at a quarter 'til, obviously." Gara flinched from the orphan's icy reply. Just then, three girls, two dark and one red-haired, entered and Rosaline cheered up considerably. "You should hear some of the names they give us. Why, I've a friend they called 'Starcatcher.'" Julie waved at her behind Gara's back.

"And Rosaline's such a beautiful first name."

"Shakespearean. They opened the Plays at random to choose first names."

"Really? My first name's Polgara, actually, but Dudley doesn't like anything that sounds remotely like magic. He's a bit of a superstitious one."

Suddenly, Julie straightened and looked closely at the little boy.

"And what's your name?" she asked the pudgy child.

"Vernon Dursley, I'm not to talk to strangers." He stuck out his tongue at her and burst into tears when Julie stuck out hers right back with a grin. _"Mummy,_ she-"

"Not now, dear," his mother said, just as his father arrived. "Vernon, you have to sign these here."

"Alright," he said, moving to accept the clipboard. Suddenly, Julie ran over and hugged him like a brother.

"Cousin Dudley!" she exclaimed. Mitchie got it and cracked up into fits.

"I beg your humble pardon?" Dudley asked, horrified.

"Daddy's told me so much about you and Aunt Gara! This must be Vernie." Julie crouched and spoke to the little boy. "I'm your cousin, Hermione _Potter."_

"And I'm Lily," Mitchie said, putting out her hand, which Gara shook and Dudley avoided like the plague. Jen also stepped forward.

"My name's Ginny."

"I heard your cousin and his wife had twins…or triplets, dear," Gara said. Dudley looked as if he'd swallowed something unpleasant. Dark haired, just like Harry, two of them had green eyes and one glasses…wasn't that Wellesley or what's-her-name a redhead?

"Triplets," Julie supplied. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Er, I…" Dudley, profoundly terrified, indicated Ros, who looked truly amazed. 

"Oh, you're adopting Ros! I thought you and Aunt Gara were Muggles!" Julie gave him a bigger grin and yet another hug. "That's so nice of you!"

"Mug…b-but…?"

"Oh, Ros goes to school with us," Julie lied. "Top of our class when she isn't busy with Quidditch-"

"Well, er… Gara, we must be going," Dudley whispered, looking suddenly at Rosaline as if she were a very large sea slug. "I'm sure someone else will be happy to adopt-"

"You mean we aren't taking her?" Gara asked, a bit angry. Rosaline stood up and hugged Julie. 

"Really, Mrs. Dursley, it's alright with me. I've got my friends."

"Are you sure?" Gara asked a little sadly, as Dudley tugged her wrist to leave. 

"Oh, yes. I'll be eighteen in two years anyway."

"Oh." Gara, despite being pulled toward the door, looked genuinely sad. "Well, here's my address, so that you can write," she offered Ros a business card.

_"Now,_ Gara." Dudley commanded.

"Er, goodbye!" 

And with that, Rosaline was saved from a cupboard under the stairs. The instant the Dursleys were gone, the Griffies burst into absolute fits of laughter. Rosaline looked at them in positive awe.

"Do I even want to _know_ what you did?"

"'Extempore from my mother wit,'" Julie explained.

"Seriously, though, he was terrified! Are you really his relatives?"

"Merlin's arse, no! This is Michelle Tyler and Jen Blodgett. Griffies, this is Rosaline Quartertil."

"A splendid joy to meet you both," Rosaline greeted. "Are you three cousins then?"

"Nope," Mitchie announced. "I'm Julie's parents' foster-kid and Jen's in our House at school. Raw coincidence."

"Who did he think you were?" the Muggle asked.

"Well, I have an honorary uncle, my mother's friend…" And, excising all references to magic, Julie explained the relationship between Harry Potter and the Dursleys. "So the idea of you being friends with us scared him away. You must be part-Irish with this luck."

Rosaline gave them a look as if to say 'I'm not stupid.'

"You're witches, aren't you?" she asked.

"What?"

"Oh, come on! Miss Parkington gets engaged to a guy who can mysteriously just appear when he's needed, wasn't his name Weasley just like your uncle Harry's wife? That guy's paranoid about magic, I bet the three of you flew in on broomsticks."

Julie suddenly looked caught. In her most cynical voice, she admitted:

"You've caught us, Ros, brooms and everything. We're not only witches, but we play a game on our broomsticks called Quidditch. Mitchie here's dating the team captain, she's a werewolf, and I'm learning to turn myself into an animal at will."

Rosaline laughed.

"You are really the reigning queen of bullshit, still, aren't you? A werewolf! God!"

The three witches laughed nervously, relieved that it was being shrugged off. "How's that professor you introduced me to?"

"Oh, Draco? He's …good."

Why Mitchie suddenly had to stifle a giggling fit, Jen and Ros would never know. 

"So, what are you lot doing here? Didn't you have classes?"

"We skived off the last few to –er, come up here." Julie stopped herself from saying 'fly' just in time.

"You _talk_ different, Julie," Ros observed. "Since when do you say 'skived off' and not 'splintered'?"

"It must be my parents' influence. Neither of them is from the Cob."

"Ah, well. One more Broughton-brogue bites the dust. Now you've gone right Manchester, you have."

"You think I'm bad, listen to Mitchie."

"Strange tag, that," Rosaline said.

"What?"

"She means your name," Julie translated.

"Oh. It's actually short for Michelle Isolde Tyler, sort of like you're 'Ros.'"

"God, you're a _Yank,"_ Ros observed in awe. "Do you know about the difference between chips and crisps?"

"Yeah, and bonnet and boot and biscuit. It all translates."

"You know Starcatcher from the orphanage?" Jen asked, her right hand shaking.

"Know her? Julie's one o' me best mates! Remember when we stole the street mark?"

"Yeah! And I shorted out the electric drill!"

"Jack was talkin' about that just t'other day, about when you an' me 'ad to sneak it back in the dark and we 'ad it on sideways and traffic went mad. That was bugger-all funny."

"Wasn' it?" Julie heard her 'Broughton-brogue' starting to return. All the orphans had exaggeratedly proper language around adults and people they were mad at, but thick, almost Cockney slang in friendly company.

"Why don' you an' these come get some funnies with me an' our ol' crowd?"

"Funnies?" Mitchie asked. Julie and Ros explained together.

"Funny; joke." Blank stares. "Cherry Coke."

"Oh, that rhyming slang," Jen recognized. "I never could get the hang of that."

"Why, where you from?" Ros inquired.

"Don't know if you'd know it; village of Blodgershire?"

"Nope, never heard of it. Farming town?"

"Er, no, actually it's mostly old money snobbish types."

"Sounds buggered annoying."

"Oh, def'nitely. I'd rather be an orphan than some of that lot."

To Julie and Mitchie's amazement, Jen and Ros proceeded to get on perfectly the entire afternoon. It was past dark when it finally occurred to the witches they should head back.

"Well, it's been wonderful, Ros. Glad those buggered Dursleys didn't take y' after all," Julie said, hugging her old friend. 

"All your doing, guys. Thank you all." And without further ado, Ros gave each girl a hug.

"It was lovely to meet you," Mitchie observed.

"Sometime we must go out and do this again," Jen remarked, a smile incongruous on her bruised face. She and Mitchie stepped outside ahead of Julie and Ros motioned her friend over for a word.

"Yeah, Ros?"

"I know it's not my business, but what happened to Jen?"

"Ex-boyfriend."

"God love her. One fight or abusive?" Julie sighed. "She's so nice, too. Why don't you have that blond professor castrate him?"

"Rosaline!"

"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em. Thanks again, Jules." They hugged again and Ros saw the new arrival behind Julie. "Why don't you ask him now?"

"Ask who –oh!" It was Draco. "What are you doing here?"

"I've sent the Yank and Blodgett on. I need a word with you."

Ros stepped right up to Malfoy and asked:

"Would you mind terribly unmanning Jen's ex-boyfriend?" To Julie's shock, Draco chortled.

"I know him. It'd take some damn small scissors."

"Julie, I like this guy!" Ros announced. "Well, see you later, it's curfew."

"'Bye!" Julie stepped outside with her professor. No sooner was the door shut than she turned on him. "Now what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you and your mother said you were here."

"Bugger you anyway, Pureblood!" Julie started to stalk off again, but Draco grabbed her shoulder. "What?"

"I…I just wanted to say I was sorry if I offended you."

"Oh, _bollocks_ you offended me, Draco! I don't want to be your little sister, you know! Just 'cause you don't like my mum the way you do my dad doesn't mean I'm not my own person! For God's sake, I didn't even grow up with them!"

Blinded by tears, Julie almost walked directly into oncoming traffic. Draco caught her shoulder again and this time pulled her into a rough embrace.

"I love you for _you,_ Julie, you know that."

"Then why do you keep treating me like a kid?"

"Because I don't want to take away your childhood. I lost mine because of the war and Dad and Voldemort; you've already missed out on most of yours for the same reason. I'll be damned if I take the rest of it."

"Draco…I don't want to _be_ a kid anymore. Kids get hurt."

"And you think you won't when you're older? It just gets worse. And you've only got a few years left to enjoy safety, now that you have it."

"I thought it was because you didn't want to take my dad's daughter away."

"Julie, you dumb Gryffindor, nobody could! You never lose your parents just 'cause you grow up." Draco lifted her chin so she could see his eyes. "I'll wait as long as I have to, but that doesn't mean I'll tie you down while I do it. I love you."

Defeated, Julie buried her face in Draco's chest and held onto him. The difference in their heights was growing smaller, but she was still not quite past his shoulder. It was very strange on Dennon Street at night, black as coal near Broughton, but almost paradisiacally colorful starting three blocks away from the glowing neon tubes and lighted signs of downtown Cobham. They could hear vague music coming from somewhere, and with the curiosity of lovers on a make-up high, they moved southward down Dennon to check it out.

"It's so classy at night," Draco remarked, seeing the nineteen-twenties architecture and brilliant lighting on the shops' and pubs' false fronts. Julie laughed lightly at this opinion.

"You've not been here very long, then, dear." With that enigmatic reply, she pulled him down an alley to the back nine of the street.

It could have not been more different from the elegant fronts than slum Birmingham is from Paris. There were drunks already passed out near the back door of a pub, shadowy men in only trenchcoats or leather jackets despite the cold, and women in too-revealing nylons or fishnets with inhumanly off-season shoes and garish makeup. One of the shadow men slouched toward Julie and she spat out a string of incomprehensible English that made the shadow man back away. Draco looked at her in shock as he realized the man was most likely a Muggle drug-dealer. A garish woman hurried past them, pursued by a man in a worn leisure suit through the slushy snow. She slipped in her stiletto heels and Julie helped her up, only to get a shove from the man as he grabbed the woman by the shoulders and began to yell at her. Draco would have went for him, but Julie stopped him and deftly put snow down the man's back and ran. Ignoring the weeping woman, the man pursued her to the end of the alley, where suddenly he ran into her arm and fell down in the snow. Julie kicked him in the head and he went unconscious.

"Clothesline," she explained to Draco. "Damn pimp." She offered her hand to the woman and helped her up from where she had been shoved again. "Go home," she advised her.

"Thanks, ly-dy," the woman said, scurrying away. Julie took Draco's arm again and together they stepped back across the invisible divide between back nine horrors and stylish fronts. 

"She wasn't a-?" Draco asked, unable to say it.

"Hooker? Yep. Don't look so shocked, dear, a lot of the Broughton kids could call 'em Mummy. Where do you think we all come from?"

_"You_ don't," he remarked in some disgust at the situation.

"I didn't always know that, though."

"It was incredibly –Gryffindor of you to do that, though. What if that…"

"Clothesline?"

"Yeah, what if that hadn't knocked him out?"

"It didn't. That's why the kick in the head. I'm a lot more streetwise than book-learned, you know, darling." 

Walking again on the sparkling pavements in her tartan coat and black school skirt, snow lit up in colors by the many lights, Julie had transformed into someone who looked not only grown-up, but upper-class. Draco would have never believed her capable of clotheslining a street criminal in a dark alley had he not just seen her do it with his own eyes. "You're staring, have I grown a second head?"

"No, just…changed. Out here you look so much more…is all of this street like that?"

"Like what?"

"Two-sided."

"Oh, yeah, almost all Cobham and a good bit of London is."

"You're just so…_used_ to it all, like this is nothing."

And again, Julie laughed lightly. To her it _was_ nothing. So she explained:

_"When I was a kid, I played on this street.  
I always loved illusion._

_I thought make-believe was truer than life  
But now it's all confusion.  
Please, can you tell me what's happening?  
I just don't know any more.  
If this is real, what should I feel?  
What should I look for?"_

Draco realized what she meant, but wasn't sure what he could tell her.

"If you were smart, you would keep on walking  
Out of my life as fast as you can.  
I'm not the one you should pin your hopes on.  
You're falling for the wrong kind of man.  
This is crazy! You know we should call it a day."

_"Sound advice,"_ Julie agreed, a little uncertainly.

_"Great advice."_

_"Let's throw it away." _

And suddenly, Julie's hands were in Draco's, and she finally admitted the inevitable. _"I can't control all the things I'm feeling.  
I haven't got a prayer.   
If I'm a fool, well, I'm too much in love to care."_

"I knew where I was. I'd given up hope.  
Made friends with disillusion.  
No one in my life, but I look at you  
And now it's all confusion.  
I can't control all the things I'm feeling.  
I'm floating in mid-air.  
I know it's wrong, but I'm too much in love to care."

"I don't think it's wrong."

"You're fifteen," Draco said mildly, a little shocked at what they had just said. Julie merely looked at her watch and smiled.

"Sixteen, actually." He kissed her and they gave up all pretense of hiding it.

"If we are fools, well, we're too much in love to care."

******************************************************************   
Jen and Mitchie landed at Hogwarts. Professors Snape and Potter were there in winter robes to meet them.

"And you left _why?"_ Snape asked in his most malevolent tone.

"Rescuing damsels from Dursleys," Jen replied calmly, even with a touch of humor. Snape's eyes widened for a second. "I don't think House points would be sufficient punishment, shall we say two detentions each?"

"I don't think that's really necessary in view of the circumstances," Snape replied, startling Harry and Mitchie terribly. "Just make certain you get all your work made up and don't cut any more classes."

Not being one to look a gift Snape in the mouth, Mitchie followed inside, explaining the incident to Professor Harry. Jen, however, was stopped at the door by the rarest of rarities; Snape smiling. "It's nice to have you back, Blodgett."

And for some reason, Jen knew he didn't mean from London. It was amazing what two weeks in Gryffindor could do. A thought flickered through her mind, that despite it being Tyler and Snape who had gotten Lyff out of her life, it had been Starcatcher to make her laugh again. Her neck made her head twitch very slightly, but then, she was shivering, so she ignored it. Walking to catch up with Tyler and Professor Potter, it occurred to Jen that Lyff was staring at her whenever she looked at him. Missing her last three classes had been a welcome break from the stress of that. 

Dinner was about fifteen minutes' started when Starcatcher got back to them. Jen watched the shorter girl laugh with Tyler and Davies about the whole incident, and realized yet again that she was lovely.

Damn, but she hated Slytherin.

***************************************************************** 

A/N: Here's an analogy. What Brooklyn is to New York City, Cobham is to the greater London area. Jen comes from a wizarding village not only named for her family but mostly populated by Slytherins. The date of this chapter is on or about January fifteenth, so despite Julie's not knowing her exact birthday, she has always _celebrated_ it mid-month with the Broughton kids. Next chapter: the arrival of Whoever, name and all.


	48. Extracurricular Activities

A/N: And now for the next chapter of what has to be the most consequential dare I ever took. An aside, all of my health and academic problems have been resolved, so now I am free to devote the remainder of the summer to writing, and now that I have a good beta reader I will not have to go to the library and research each and every thing which happens that has not to me at some time or another. (Such things as temporary blindness due to injury, getting beaten up for being a smart-aleck and tricking drama directors I have no problem with. Such things as time-travel, disciplining one's children and the side-effects of pregnancy I needed LOTS of help with.) So here you go.

Chapter Forty-Eight: Extracurricular Activities 

"Alright, class, today we will be making a more concentrated form of the Incandescence Potion we did last Friday. The ingredients are on the board, and the only other thing out of the ordinary is that you have to-" here Professor Granger paused tensely before continuing, "simmer the lacewings and fireflies together. Yes, Mitchie?"

"I was wondering whether we were to work in groups of two or three?"

"Threes sound good, this is rather a tricky one. I'll be in my office for a moment if anyone needs me." And with that, the professor got up with some mild difficulty from her desk and departed, causing a murmur or whispers from the Slytherins and Gryffindors.

"Is your mum feeling alright, Starcatcher?" Jen inquired.

"I don' know…Mitchie, you don't think-?"

"How the hell am I to know about these things?" the American whispered. "The only labor I assisted with was eight hamsters!"

"Hold on! You mean to tell me Professor Granger's-?" Jen asked. Julie and Mitchie nodded as if to say 'where were you?' "Merlin's arse, how far along is she?"

"I'm not sure, the baby's due within the month or so." Jen suddenly became very different, almost frighteningly concerned and capable.

"And she's still teaching? What kind of…alright, listen. Yank, I want you to go knock on her door and make like you've got a question about lacewings or something. Starcatcher, I want you to remember; _when is your little sibling due?"_

"I'm not sure…" Julie tried to figure it out and wound up shrugging. "I'd say within these next two or three weeks or so, could be wrong."

"Okay, that's bad. Go talk to your mum, find out what's wrong."

"Okay…why?"

"Because! I have little cousins, I know these things. Go."

"Alright," Julie agreed, going with the Yank to her mum's office. 

The instant they were more than ten feet away, Jen's hand started to tremble and she put down her quill. The stress of being in a room with Jem was positive hell, and mealtimes in Lyff's presence were positively unbearable. She had never thought of getting away from them before Tyler dispelled her illusion, and in spite of the stress and the worrying about whether or not her parents would ever speak to her again, it was definitely better not getting hit with a book every other day or so. A few moments later, the Yank returned and motioned for Jen to go with her. As the pair headed for their professor's office, Jen caught sight of her black-haired twin brother glaring at her. Her neck began to twitch.

"Now, Mum, could you tell Jen what you just told me?"

"Honestly, dear, I just don't feel well. It happens."

"Mum," Julie pleaded, a bit threateningly.

"Please, Professor Granger, you can trust me," Jen said. Finally Hermione sighed and explained her situation to the former Slytherin.

"I just woke up a little sore, that's all –ow."

"Ow? What was that ow?" Julie asked almost hysterically.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Julie, it's only –oh, cripe. There it goes again." A weird look was crossing Professor Granger's face.

"It isn't sharp and sort of like indigestion, right?" Jen asked.

"Actually, yeah it is…it isn't-?"

"Mum, we are going to Madam Pomfrey's, _now."_

"But- but I have class. You have class."

"Per'fessor, I suggest you do what the darkhairs say." Mitchie remarked pleadingly. "I'll go call Miss Parkington to take over if you like."

"Seriously, girls, I think I'm fine."

"Better to play it safe, Professor," Jen advised. Julie was just a wee touch more blunt:"You come with me an' Jen or I'm getting Dad."

"Alright, but I'm not going until Judy gets here." 

"Fine. Mitch, would you get her please?"

"Gone, babe." The werewolf sped off, out of the office and through the classroom door. 

"Four to one says she does a broom-accio," Julie observed. "Sit down, Mum, I don't want you to get lightheaded."

"Excuse me, but who is the parent here?" Professor Granger asked in disbelief. Jen brought her her chair and smiled.

"Professor, you don't want to mess with something like this. Even if it is a false alarm, you should really see the nurse."

"If you say so," the professor finally concurred, looking at the two black-haired girls and their concerned expressions. "I don't like being away from class for this long, though, what if the Slytherins and the Gryffindors get in a fight?"

"I'll take care of everything, Hermione," Judy Parkington announced, appearing at the door of her office holding the unfortunate and struggling Yank by the ear. "I caught _this_ flying in the halls again."

"Michelle!" Hermione reprimanded. "Not again! It's the seventh time this month-ow."

"Well done, Mitch," Judy said, suddenly, releasing Mitchie's ear and shaking her free hand. "Hermione, I really think you'd better get to Poppy's now."

"You are _all_ overreacting," the professor said, just before handing the reins of Potions class to the Muggle. Julie, Jen and Mitchie went back to their seats the minute they saw Hermione safe in Madam Pomfrey's care.

"What's up, Jules?" Tom asked from the table behind them.

"Whoever's decided on Capricorn."

"Oh, splendid! Won't Professor Sinistra be pleased?" The Griffie girls turned around and gave him a look and he realized what she'd meant by that. "You don't mean…?"

"It looks that way."

"But wouldn't that make Whoever –you know, sort of underdone?"

"D'you mean premature?" Mitchie said. "Nope. That's not much of a problem, anyway."

"But she only told everyone at Christmastime."

"Well, I knew for quite awhile before that."

"Are you nervous?"

"Is the sky up? Stupid question, Tim." Mitchie was obviously almost as nervous as her friend. 

"Do you know whether it's a girl or boy?" Jen asked. Julie smiled.

"I'm betting on a boy. Dumbledore referred to him as 'he,' after all."

"What are your folks going to name him, Jules?"

"I don't know…probably something wizardish and traditional."

"You came with a first name, didn't you, though, so they've not had that much experience?" Jen had actually yet to call Julie by her first name.

"Yep, I was named totally at random…just opened the Shakespeare and picked 'Julius Caesar,' s'cept I'm a girl, so I'm Julia, and Starcatcher's cause o' this mark I've got." Jen seemed to find this anecdote amusing.

"My parents didn't know Jem and I were twins, and when I was born first it was rather a shock, as they wanted to call a boy Jeremy after my uncle. So I was called Jennifer so we could be Jem and Jen."

"It's dead convenient when twins got matching names," Tom observed. 

"Yeah, if you get it wrong both of them answer," Tim added.

"How'd you two get complimental names?" Mitchie asked. "I thought you were cousins."

"Doubles. Mum and Aunt Jacquie were pregnant together and they negotiated our names out beforehand. Dad and Uncle Fred liked the idea, so I'm Tom and he's Tim."

"Which one's the older?"

"Me," Tim said. "Two and a half days."

"And you, Yank?" Jen asked in curiosity.

"Well, I come from America, so everybody calls me 'Yank.'"

"No, I mean your real name."

"Oh, yeah, right." Mitchie did look a bit distracted. "Well, my parents are both Irish-descended, so there's the Isolde, and their names were John and Cass."

"And that signifies?" Jen had absolutely no idea why this was funny. Julie laughed.

"There was a Muggle band in the late sixties with John Phillips and Mama Cass Elliot as well as Michelle Gilliam Phillips. It's a music joke."

"I thought the name 'Mitchie' was short for something," Jen observed. "But until you first got yelled at in Snape's class I wasn't sure. You're Michelle Isolde Tyler?"

"Yep."

"Jennifer Blaise Blodgett."

"Thomas Fred Weasley."

"Timothy George Weasley."

"Julia Starcatcher Snape."

"Judith Katherine Parkington. Do your work."

***************************************************************** "Draco!" Julie exclaimed, walking into Gryffindor Common Room with her friends. "I mean, Professor Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"Julie, your dad sent me here to tell you what was going on."

"Is per'fessor Granger alright?" Mitchie asked.

"Yes, she's in St. Mungo's with Professor Snape, the baby's definitely coming, but she's okay, Julie's dad is there, and everything's going fine."

"Wasn't Madam Pomfrey going to take care of things?"

"Well, actually, she was, but a few of your father's sixth-years managed to injure each other in class today and she's really overbooked. Your dad took your mum out to St. Mungo's a few minutes ago."

"I thought that you couldn't Apparate out," Jen said.

"You can't. I believe they used Floo powder. It's not the first time someone's needed to go to a hospital."

"Mum's definitely okay?" Julie asked imploringly.

"Yes, Julie, she's fine. Trust me."

"Has Professor Snape had a conniption yet?" Mitchie inquired with an excited grin.

"Well, Severus seemed just a touch more nervous than when Julie disappeared at the ball last Halloween…I wouldn't say a conniption, though, persay, more like a quiet, civilized breakdown between contractions."

"Contractions?" Tim asked. "Isn't that something he keeps saying Mitch has a problem with?"

"I don't either have problems with contractions!"

"Not that kind, guys." In as professorly and inexplicit a manner as he could, Draco explained the rudiments of the procedure of getting born. Very calmly, Julie asked a question:

"Does all that hurt?"

"I suppose so, yeah."

"Okay."

And very calmly and evenly, Julie almost fainted from the nasty thought.

"Oh, _nice,_ Per'fessor, scare 'er a bit," Mitchie chastised, as pale as a ghost herself. "That's what we Yanks call an over-share."

************************************************************* 

"Dear, are you alright?" Severus asked.

"Yeah…no! Most definitely no…naw, I'm alright."

Pain. There was lots of pain…and it was dark. Very dark. Hermione could hear a strange sound, like a bird singing or flute playing, weirdly comforting sound it was…lots of pain…

And then the contraction ended and the professor could see the brightly-lit hospital around her again. 

Severus knew that somehow something was not going right. He had seen his wife in pain often enough when she accidentally burned herself or spilled something acidic on her skin in class. She did not just stare into space that way when she was hurting, that much he knew. Nobody did, unless the pain reminded them of something else. For a moment he tried to think of what made him look that way, and the only comparison he could think of was the faraway look when he remembered getting his Dark Mark years ago.

"Darling, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, just…hurts a bit."

He held her hand and that seemed to help. As nervous as he felt for her safety and the baby's, Severus was also very excited about his second child. He wondered how his first was putting up with waiting.

************************************************************* 

"What do you think we should do while we wait?" Chloe asked. Julie gave her a deadpan look.

"Dress up in weird clothes and pretend we're Bohemian artists of the late nineteenth-century?"

"Er, no. I was thinking more along the lines of homework or something."

"Done it." Julie and Jen each held up their essays. Mitchie was still scratching away at her parchment, a fixed expression of defeat on her face. 

"Well, then, how about we think of something to do for your new sibling?"

"Teach 'im to read," Mitchie said, almost inaudibly, not looking up for a second from her parchment.

"Yeah, why not go out and find Whoever a storybook?" Jen asked.

"I don't want to leave in case there's any news," Julie hedged.

"Well, did you guys ever play pass-the-pen?" Chloe suggested. "My friends and I used to come up with the funniest stories that way."

"Pass-the-pen?" Jen inquired.

"One of my Muggle friends from the Latin Quarter taught me how," Chloe explained. "One person starts a story writing out loud, and then they pass the pen and parchment to the next person, and they continue it, and so on. It's fun, really."

"Can I do the pictures?" Mitchie asked. "My handwriting's an insult to humanity."

"Okay." Julie found a roll of parchment and began trimming it into sheets with what looked to her friends like a small pocketknife. Next she found her pointiest long needle and sewed the sheets together in the middle, making an improvised notebook. "Will this be sufficient?" she inquired of Chloe.

"C'est magnifique," the first-year decreed. "Now who starts it, Julie, do you want to?"

"Okay." Julie got her quill and began to write. "Once upon a time, there was…" she looked up. "Any ideas there?"

"A lot of bunnies. Children like bunnies," Mitchie said.

"Personally I was terrified of them," Jen said. "Lyff told me they were shape-shifters when I was four."

"'Zhat bastard," Chloe observed tersely. "Vhere I come from he would have been locked up by now."

"Where I come from he'd have been offed by now. Didn't any of you see 'The Godfather'?"

"Mitchie, I sincerely hope you weren't involved with the Mafia." At times, Julie was bothered by the American's grasp on sordid subjects. "It's so untidy…"

"Why don't you make the story about a little kid," Jen suggested. "Little kids like to hear about other little kids."

"Okay. 'Once upon a time…there was a boy.'"

"A very strange, enchanted boy?" Mitchie inquired, just short of bursting into song.

_"Zhey say 'e wandered very far, very far,"_ Chloe added.

"Over land and sea…" 

"What is with you lot and singing?" Jen inquired. 

"It's from a Muggle film we sort of like a lot. Haven't you seen how in some of them the characters simply burst into song?"

"I've never really seen any Muggle films, except when I took Muggle Studies in third year for awhile. They're kind of neat, much better than wizard ones."

"Why'd you ever drop that class?" Mitchie asked. Jen indicated the last of the bruises around her eyes. "Oh. Say, when's your birthday? We could have him hit."

"Michelle Isolde Tyler, that's uncivilized. Let us poison him slowly as my people do." Chloe suggested.

"I think you're both mad. Why don't we take him to Dennon and leave him there without a wand?"

"Julie! You go, girl!" Mitchie said. "How's the story going so far?"

"'Once upon a time, there was a boy.'"

"Well, describe the kid!"

"Alright… 'he had dark hair and wasn't very tall.'"

"Hey!"

"'His best friend was a blonde.' Better, Chloe?"

"Much. My turn."

"This look about right?" Mitchie asked, holding up a picture of a boy who resembled a smaller Julie with somewhat lighter hair. "Shall I draw Chloe as the friend?"

"You know, what, this is not working," Chloe said. "I'm too nervous to write."

"Me, too. Should we go bother the house-elves for some munchies now?" Mitchie asked. "I think skipping lunch might've been a bad idea."

"Is it that time of the month again?" Julie asked.

"Yep. Good thing the days are getting longer, eh?"

"Did you get the Wolfsbane Potion from Mum before she left?"

"She set up a supply of it for emergencies such as this. I'm safe."

"Alright, this is something of an odd conversation, girls," Tim remarked, walking into the Gryffindor common room. "If I didn't know about your wolf thing, Mitch, I'd swear this was something I didn't want to hear."

"Do regular humans get cramps as well?" the American asked, scratching lazily. Tim looked suddenly very shocked and every female present started giggling. 

"Werewolves do?" Hannah asked, following Tim into the room. "I somehow feel a lot better about being plain human."

"What does transforming into a wolf feel like?"

"Well, if you're wolf-born, it's just like a really hard sneeze all over. Bitten wolves need to get used to it and their first few hurt like a bugger and a half."

"Yank?" Jen asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't bite me."

"Don' worry, I won't. I don't care for humans, actually."

"You've tasted human?"

"Well, when one is a canid, one licks faces quite often. People taste like underdone chicken."

"When do you change?"

"When the moon rises and the sun goes down. Say, have you ever seen Muggles ride sleds drawn by dogs?"

"Are you suggesting-?"

"Yeah, I think it'd be fun. Why don't we go play in the snow?"

"What if there's some news?"

"Aw, Julie, Pureblood can find us on the lawn playing," Tim protested. "Besides, doesn't it take, like, hours for babies to get born?"

**************************************************************** 

"I assume you heard?" Flint asked Lyff that night.

"Heard what?"

"Another little half-Mudblood on the way."

"How the hell did Granger keep it a secret for so long? We only heard at Christmas and now she's-"

"I have my suspicions."

"You always have your suspicions, Matt, when will you have useful thoughts for me?"

"Be silent, you little twit. You've gotten positively insufferable since you lost Jennifer."

"I didn't lose her, she-"

"You lost her. You're a disgrace to your House, getting caught like that. Whoever treats a female that way deserves to lose his girl."

"And you're anyone to talk," Lyff mumbled.

"Listen, Lyfften. You've only got her brother on your side because it was the damned American who found you out. If he gets wind of what I found out this afternoon, he won' be so friendly. After all, Jennifer is his twin sister."

"And what have you found out that could sever Jem from me?"

"Snape's taken in the damn Yank as a foster kid. That's as good as making her a Slytherin."

"What the hell…why would he do that?"

"This is why." Flint tossed an old photograph to his friend. "Father's been letting me use his research pass with the Ministry."

"Who are these people?" Lyff asked, recognizing only his Potions teacher.

"Those were the American Aurory's best forensics operatives in the year 2002. Their daughter was born in two-thousand-three, just five months after Starcatcher and nine months after Jen."

"The American."

"Precisely. Who knew Snape had friends?"

"My father met them briefly when I was about three. He seems to recall them both being werewolves as well. Now, Lyfften, how would you propose getting a werewolf expelled?"

"Er…expose them for what they are?"

"No, everyone knows the Yank's a werewolf and almost noone minds. In fact, judging by what I saw last week in the library, most of the students think it convenient given Snape's essays on werewolves. What makes werewolves not dangerous?"

"Er…the Wolfsbane Potion? …Matt, you want to mess up her potion and make her go violent?"

"You aren't really as slow as Jen would have it, do you know that?"

"Damn that little chit…hope the Yank eats her."

**************************************************************** 

In between pain and unconsciousness there seemed to be a dark tunnel. Hermione was lost in it. There were strange sounds and a familiar feeling, as well as a tune she remembered from a long time ago.

Phoenix song.

"Okay, this isn't good. She's completely out of it." The doctor began checking Hermione's vital signs, frightening Severus.

"Is that the technical term for it?" he asked harshly. 

"Mr. Snape, please. This is serious. Roberta, get me the 'scope, hurry."

"Scope? What do you want to do with a scope?"

"Sir, if you could please back away for a few moments," a nurse pleaded, busy pulling all kinds of frightening equipment out of cupboards. "Your wife will be fine, just let the doctors work."

Terrified, Severus moved to the side and relinquished control to the doctors. He did not, however, let go of his wife's hand.

Hearing the commotion within the delivery room, a visitor decided to Apparate in.

"Severus?" the man asked, placing a hand on the nervous professor's shoulder.

"I don't want to leave…could you owl Draco and tell him to tell Julie?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Albus."

*************************************************************** 

"Two wolves?" Tim asked, looking at Mitchie and Donaghan. "Who's the other?"

"Probably just some Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff who hasn't come out yet."

"Aw, look, Mitchie's licking him."

"How do you know it's a him?" Jen asked.

"He looks like a 'him,'" Julie explained. "Wolves are such nice animals…I should probably walk the dogs."

"Dogs? Oh, yeah, your mum and dad have the three-headed one…"

"Do you want to come along?" Julie invited. Jen nodded with a small smile. 

"You shouldn't walk around in the dungeons alone anyway."

"Oh, we don't have to go through the dungeons…I have a shortcut."

Minutes later, Jen and Julie fell out of the fireplace and into the Granger-Snapes' living room, laughing. The puppies came over and licked their faces.

"Bloody convenient stuff, Floo powder is," Jen observed. "When did your mum and dad set this up for you?"

"It was in place a little while 'fore I showed up, actually," Julie said with a smile.

"So they had it ready for their kid…oh."

"Yeah, just a convenient little leftover. Have you heard anything from your parents lately?"

"I overheard Jem talking to Lyff in the hall…my godmother's adopting a baby girl. I sort of wish I could talk to Aunt Blaise and explain what's going on before Jem and Lyff make me sound like…well, you get the idea."

"Jen, Lyff hit you. A lot. You weren't in the wrong."

"Yes, that's all very well and good for you to say, but you're in Gryffindor. You actually have common sense. In Slytherin it's all intrigues and deception and webs of lies."

"And girls getting hit with books across their faces, Jen? Haven't you realized yet you're never going back?"

Jen gave Julie a derisive look.

"How long did it take you to realize you'd never go back to that orphanage?"

Julie sank into one of the chairs by the fireplace.

"I'm not going to, am I? I'll have a sibling soon, and I've got parents and family…"

"Aren't we the pair? You've just got them; I've just lost them. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Jen…why would your brother take Lyff's side over yours?"

"That's just how things work in some families. The Grudgetts and Blodgetts are like one big clan, second cousins married each other for generations. Right now Lyff's the oldest heir, and since Jem's a second-born he's subservient to Lyff. I'm the firstborn girl, so I'm supposed to wind up with Lyff."

"Sounds like old royalty, but sordid."

"Old Slytherin clans almost always _are_ sordid."

"Draco read me most of his family history…wasn't too bad."

"The Malfoys only went downhill in the last two generations before his. They weren't quite as pureblooded or snobbish as Lucius would have made out."

"I suspected that."

"I didn't know you called Professor Malfoy by his first name."

Julie reddened slightly.

"Oh, yeah, that. Sort of a habit we picked up in arguing. We fought a great deal before finally getting used to each other."

"I remember well. He defends you very quickly and harshly, you know."

Julie forced an airy little laugh at that.

"My father's influence, no doubt. I get the impression it was Dad who kept Draco from the Death Eaters."

"It was. If you were a Slytherin you'd also know that Professor Malfoy considers him one between friend and father."

"House isn't everything. I got that impression, too."

"So you have neatly been endowed with a protective honorary half-brother…though it seems to me Tyler suspects that he is more than that."

"You take Mitchie seriously, you take your sanity in your hands. To her life is but a series of jokes mortared together with the serious, and to be honest, much as I care for my foster-sister, it is none too strong a wall."

"You wax classical, do these dungeons frighten you?"

"Your hand shakes, friend; nay, my family's rooms comfort me."

"Perhaps it is the air, and the potions the Slytherins brew, that make us speak as our lost forebears doth."

"Or mayhap 'tis some spell left from a few evenings hence, as you knowest full well my mother's fondness for the bard of Stratford's work."

"What man is that?"

"Shakespeare; the first common favorite I had with her. Rememberest thou the play last November late?"

"Yea, where thou wert first made to kiss Professor Malfoy, well."

"Not first," Julie laughed. "I would kiss him again."

"He is well a man worth liking, or so he is writ."

"Dost thou like of him what thou hast seen of him?"

"Marry, I have seen him from bottom-ended up, the way in which I least like to view anything. But that which I have seen, I will say, friend, I like."

There was a sudden burst of smoke from the fireplace and both girls wound up coughing. The Shakespearean language shattered with an expletive.

"What the devil?" 

"Ah, Julie," the visitor greeted, "there you are. Draco's already flying to St. Mungo's, you must come with me."

It was the first time Julie had ever been frightened by Dumbledore's presence. Realizing who it was, Jen all but bowed.

"Minister Dumbledore, how are you?"

"In a tearing hurry, Jennifer, how are you?"

"Good."

"Excellent. I was told of the reasons for your change of house. Are you coming along with Julie to St. Mungo's?"

"Er-"

"Please do?" Julie asked, looking terrified. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

"Well, he's not born yet. There are difficulties with your mother's labor."

"Let's go, then!"

**************************************************************** 

She distinctly remembered something a lot like this. There was pain, but it was slowly fading with the sound of the phoenix song…until it eased to the point where she couldn't feel a thing.

"Fawkes," she mumbled, petting the brilliant red bird.

"What is she saying?" the doctor asked Severus, who was too frightened to reply.

"A girl…" the rasping, shrill voice of Wormtail remarked. And then Hermione could hear him whispering a spell and a terrible flash of blue light-

And the sound of a baby's cry brought her back from the terrible memory. It wasn't Julie crying, but-

"Your son," the doctor observed in delight, holding up a small, purplish-red person. "Wonderful lungs the little fellow has, listen to him yell."

"He's perfect," his mother whispered. Severus nodded and accepted the little boy wrapped in a blanket. 

"What do we call him? Still think 'Albus'?"

"'Albus Julian,' for his great-grandfather and sister."

"Perfect." Severus handed Hermione her son. "He has your nose."

"Yes, he does, don't you, Albie?" she asked the baby. He responded by opening his dark eyes to look at her. "Blue eyes?"

"All babies have blue ones to start," the doctor observed. "If you like I could tell you what they'll turn out to be…" he drew out his wand and tapped small Albus on the arm. "Dark black, like his daddy."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "You'll have your daddy's eyes…Sev, he's wonderful."

"And such small hands," his father marveled as the little boy grasped his finger in a tiny fist. "He's just so little…your sister's going to love you, then, won't she, Albie?"

"Aahh," the baby replied in his infant way.

Outside the delivery room, Julie, Jen and Dumbledore had only just arrived recently. Julie was already starting to pace a hole in the floor when the doctor appeared.

"Is my Mum alright?" she asked before the door even shut.

"Yes, quite. You have a brother."

"I KNEW IT!" Julie crowed, leaping up and very nearly hitting the ceiling as she punched the sky. "A brother…is _he_ alright? Arms and legs and all?"

"He's wonderfully tall and he has good lungs for his age," the doctor announced, none too helpfully.

"Julia?" her father asked, opening the door. "Come see your brother, Albus, come and see your godson."

The overjoyed Gryffindor and Minister of Magic walked in quietly, afraid that the little boy might disappear if they woke him up.

"Albus Julian, this is your sister, Julie Starcatcher," Hermione introduced, strangely feeling for the first time that she had two children. Remembering Julie's birth had suddenly made her more aware of who the child was. 

"Er…hi, baby," Julie said, looking at her brother. Albie opened his eyes for her and looked confusedly around before shutting them again. He was slightly cross-eyed and on the whole quite adorable. "Mum, he's so small."

"That's a good thing," her father observed. "Babies come that way. Albus, what do you think?"

"He's perfect, Severus." The old man gently touched the newborn's cheek. "I didn't realize you planned to name him after me. It's quite flattering." Dumbledore kissed his little godson on the head. "At school they'll call you A.J., no doubt, Albus."

Suddenly there was a sound rather like a howl. Knocking politely, Draco entered the room and saw Small Albus.

"The doctor says it's a boy."

"He is. Look at him."

"I don't want that animal in there, sir," they heard the doctor's voice protest. Just then, a red wolf got in between Draco's long legs. "Hey!"

"That _'animal'_ is my other daughter," Severus announced. "Michelle, come see the baby."

"Whuff," Mitchie said. The reddish werewolf put her paws up neatly on the foot of the bed so as not to scare the baby. "Arr-whuff!"

"What's his name?" Draco asked.

"Albus Julian."

"Want to hold him?" Hermione offered.

"Er…alright." Carefully, Draco accepted the small infant, holding him first as if he expected him to explode, and then the way one clutches a favorite book to one's chest, supporting small A.J.'s head. "Hello."

Jen was watching through the window, her hand shaking.

"One minute," Severus said, giving his wife's hand a squeeze and walking to the door. "Well, _come in,_ Jennifer. My son's waiting to meet you."

And with a rare and brilliant smile, the professor ushered the student in to see his baby. Jen had to bite her lip hard to keep from crying. Her hand shook slightly as she looked at the small infant. 

Julie gave her a grin that indicated she'd gotten parents and family… and could share.


	49. Spells of Two Kinds

Chapter 49: Spells of Two Kinds

"Of all the sicknesses, maladies, and ailments in all the world, none has worse symptoms than unrequited love."

            -Anonymous

"A.J., what are you doing?" Julie asked her brother. He was lying in his crib and making cute noises. "Are you talking to your stuffed animals? Yes, you are." She tickled the baby on his tummy and he laughed. "Do you want your bunny? Do you want Monsieur Lapin? Yes, here you are."

A.J.'s favorite stuffed animal was a rather floppy rabbit made of soft blue velvet; a present from the Delacour-Davies. Julie placed it on A.J.'s tummy and he laughed and held the thing. He was so cute and so small, it was sometimes a problem for Julie not to simply pick him up and hold him for hours on end.

"Little guy, little hands, little eyes, and lots of time…  
What you gonna be, what you gonna see  
When your eyes are level with mine?  
I'll be level with you, I don't know what I would do  
If I had to face the things that you've got coming down the line  
If I had to face the things that you've got coming down the line…"

"Singing to Albie?" a voice inquired.

"Hey, Mitch."

"You know, if you're going to sing to the baby, you need a guitar."

"Can't play one. But you're here. Start playing, wolf." Mitchie did just that, continuing the song:

"Lots of luck, lots of heath, lots of wealth," 

"And little pain." 

The two girls began to sing quietly to their small brother.

"That's what I want for you, though there's little I can do  
To put you on the gravy train.  
I'll be level with you; you always end up coming through,  
Though you find yourself lost in space now and again.  
Though you find yourself lost in space now and again."

"I think he's sleeping," Mitchie whispered.

"Is he?" Julie checked. "Yeah."

"He's so little, and not furry."

"Not furry? He's a baby!"

"Sometimes babies are. I was born on the seventeenth, you know."

"And that would signify?"

"Full moon."

"So you were a…a wolflet?"

Mitchie laughed.

"The term is 'cub,' but yeah."

"We have to ask Jen today, you know."

"Oh, really? When are we going again?" 

Julie sighed.

"March tenth."

"Aren't you like, looking forward to it at all?"

"Mitch, we could die."

"We could every day."

"No, I mean really, Michelle, de Diablo could kill us and we'd never come back. Don't you get that?"

"I get it, Julie. I'm just not going to let it get to me. I take risks all the time for the fun of it. You've got to learn to live a little bit." As the girls left the dungeon room where little Albie slept, Mitchie pulled her guitar around so that it hung across her back like a strange axe. "You've got the American Aurory, the English Auror Office, the German Aurorscheidt, and gods-know-what else to back you up, plus Malfoy and Mr. Weasley, and me, plus Jen. De Dyablo can't hurt you without getting through us."

"Can you at least make the _effort_ to pronounce it right even if you insist on enough bravado to kill an elephant?"

"Bravado? Me? Never," Mitchie remarked sarcastically. "Julie, you've got to lighten up."

"What have you got to lose, Michelle?"

"Everything, same as you. But I've already had to give up everything to get the _new_ everything, just like you had to give up _your_ everything, y'know?" Julie gave her a blank look. "Okay, what I mean is that you had to give up what good you had at the orphange, with no certainty of what you'd have, right?"

"Right."

"And it turned out splendidly. I had to leave a few friends and the city I love, but that tuned out splendidly. I found a good foster home, a sister, and Donaghan. And now we've got Albie as well to look after. We can only lose what we've got by dying, and I'm pretty certain noone'd let that happen to us. And we might get some more to the everything by going. We'll be the saviors of countries and all will admire us. Do you know what that means?"

"What?"

"Imagine the way people act toward your Uncle Harry here. Bigger."

"Isn't it incredibly easy to be famous in America?"

"Well, easy to _get_ famous, but not to stay." Mitchie shrugged and pulled a magazine out of her padded black guitar bag. Did you know more Americans recognize your dad by sight than your uncle, Jules?"

"Why?" 

"Americans _live_ for a love story. And not to put too fine a point on it, your dad and mum are a damned sight more interesting one than your uncle marrying his best friend's sister four years after the war ended. Think about it. It's the difference between _'My Fair Lady'_ and a one-sided war movie. Which would you rather see?"

"You've been waiting for that since you got here, haven't you?"

"Waiting for what?"

"The comparison of Dad to Henry Higgins, you wicked Yank."

"And Minister Dumbledore as Colonel Pickering. Yes."

"Remind me to avoid the American cinema in it's entirety."

"You don't want to see any of the ones about your dad and mum?"

"I sincerely hope I never do. Let's find Jen."

"Alright, but there's a new one in production with you mentioned."

"Great! I can sue and buy a house in the countryside." Julie surreptitiously glanced at the magazine. "Who's playing Dad?"

*********************************************************** 

"Today we will be practicing the Granitius Curse," Professor Snape announced. "Anyone whose partner turns to stone gets five points to their house. There are Pygmalius Potions on each of your desks in case someone masters it. Simply pour the contents of the vial on the statue's head and they will return to flesh. I don't expect any of you dunderheaded half-wits to master it, but on the side of safety-"

"Waah!" a voice interrupted from behind Snape's desk.

"Pardon me a moment." The class watched in awe and shock as the Professor picked up his month-old son and patted him on the back. "As I was saying-"

But it was useless. Every female in the room and a good many of the males were now either 'aww'-ing or remarking on how cute baby A.J. was. Several others, especially Slytherins, could be heard whispering the dark rumor that Snape occasionally used his son as a test subject; not an unlikely idea, given how often he made his daughter or Tyler be the guinea pig in class. If Julie and Mitchie hadn't given so much appearance of liking it, the Ministry might well have had to deal with a few letters of suspected child abuse from students about their abrasive demagogue. Snape sighed and turned A.J. around to face the class.

"Perhaps another lesson would be better for today," he said sourly. "This is an infant human of the male sex, commonly referred to as a 'baby.' Does anyone know the specific term for this example?"

Jen Blodgett and a lot of other kids raised their hands. "Yes, Miss Blodgett?"

"This particular baby is called Albus Julian Snape."

"Precisely. This is a perfect time to explore the research of Gregor Mendel, something I had planned to introduce in a few months. What is it _now,_ Starcatcher?"

"Mendel wasn't a Muggle monk?"

"How often do you have to be surprised before you learn that almost _nobody_ of importance was all-Muggle? Mendel, as you _others_ well know, was an Austrian student at the Vandthauser Academy and later taught Herbology at Hogwarts as an associate for a time. Really!" Snape summoned A.J.'s baby chair up onto his desk and carefully buckled his son into it so that the class could see him. A.J. found this amusing and blew a sizeable spit bubble. Some students found that funny, but Snape looked unamused. "That is a common behavior of babies, class, however undignified. Yes, Miss Stern?"

Lately, Snape had taken to calling the females especially by last name and title and demanding the boys do the same in his presence. Julie was, however, plain 'Starcatcher' and Mitchie just 'Tyler' to _him_ in class, but that only showed he was lightening up a bit toward them. Julie deeply suspected the insistence on respect was because of Jen's brother.

"Is Mendel's theory of dominant and regressive traits how come Julie has dark hair and the baby doesn't?"

"An excellent question. Actually, not quite. A.J. does not have dark hair because he does not have _enough_ hair to discern its color yet. However, drawing a table of traits, can anyone make any predictions as to how A.J. will look in later years?" Snape drew out a Mendel table on the board and began to accept suggestions.

"He'll either haff straight hair like you, sir, or …vell, _not,_ like his mother does."

"Good example, Mr. Malgryevic. Anything else about A.J.'s hair? Tyler?"

"Well, sir, it seems to me that straight and brown hair are the recessive traits, and bushy and black hair are the dominants, at least by the evidence sitting next to me."

"An adequate observation, but how do you know that Starcatcher does not exhibit the recessive traits?"

"It is unlikely?"

"The chances are one in four for each recessive trait. Starcatcher, you have something to add?"

"I think A.J. has inherited a recessive trait."

"Which?"

Julie grinned a bit cheekily in vengeance at how the lesson was going.

"Why, our nose, Daddy. Almost all of the ancestors in the paintings at home have it."

Snape raised a finger to make a point.

"Yes, that is true, Starcatcher, but are you also considering chromosomal patterns? The er- _distinctive_ nose we share has indeed appeared frequently in the Snape family, but it has heretofore been very unusual for a female to inherit it. What can be therefore deduced from that? Mr. Blodgett?"

"Professor Granger had an ancestor with a nose like that as well?" Jem asked.

"That would be one theory. Does anyone have another? Yes?"

"Neither Professor Granger nor Julie has the same nose as her maternal grandparents. Julie's mother, therefore, had a regressive trait for her nose, and the dominant one transcended chromosomal tendency."

"Good, Tyler. That is indeed the most likely theory. Can you provide an example from your own family?"

"Yes. My father wore glasses and my mother did not, so for years I assumed it was a dominant trait."

"And what drew you to change your opinion?"

"My parents' Aurory files, sir. It was recorded that at the age of eighteen, my mother, who was Muggle-born, underwent a procedure of corrective laser surgery to counterract her nearsightedness. My spectacles are therefore a case of dual regressives, and assuming I marry a man who wears no glasses, my children will probably not need them."

"Excellent. You are excused from the evening's homework, which is to prepare an example of dual-regressives such as the ones provided by Starcatcher and Tyler. Recognizing people for their parentage is still considered an important part of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as it is useful to know what kind of home your suspect comes from, especially if he or she has changed their identity. Americans commonly forget the importance of genetic study due to their blended nationality and fear of racial prejudice, but being color-blind doesn't help you when your enemies are green. Remember that. Class dismissed."

The other students filed out as usual, some remarking that they would have to owl their parents at lunch or look at their photo albums for help. Julie, Jen, and Mitchie stayed behind, as was often their wont. Snape produced a bottle and began to feed his little son his lunch. "I trust you understand the reson for that particular lesson, ladies?"

"It's awfully considerate of you to put mission training into class for us, per'fessor," Mitchie remarked. "But do you have to be so down on Jules to do it?"

"I have to maintain the appearance of teaching everyone, not just you three, and humiliating, or attempting to humiliate Julie is the most commonplace action I could think of."

"Besides taking off housepoints, that is," Julie scowled. "Actually, it wasn't  so bad today. The explanation of my nose was lovely. I'd been wondering."

"No, you weren't cursed that way as an infant."

"Yes, today's discussion has restored _my_ faith in a benevolent Creator, even if he does have his damn nerve sometimes." Mitchie eyed her disproportionately larger but otherwise unobjectionable hands. "Really, a wolf only needs one set of paws."

"You seemed a bit distracted today, Miss Blodgett," Snape observed. "Does the homework present some problem to you?"

"Oh, no, sir, I just…have you ever been sort of asleep with your eyes open while you were trying to pay attention? It was sort of like that."

"Ah. I suggest you partake of some of Hermione's valerian root potion and ignore that ridiculous git you call a twin brother."

"Your bastard cousin, too."

"Tyler!"

"Seriously, Jen, non illegetemi carborundum."

"You're little better with your Latin, Starcatcher. You two watch your language around A.J."

"Yes, Julie, no more Latin. Stick to French and Greek," Mitchie joked. Professor Snape breathed a heavy sigh.

"What have I done to deserve teenagers?" he asked the ceiling. All three females laughed and Julie gave him and Albie a hug. 

"The ceiling may answer you someday, Dad. See you tonight after classes."

After leaving the Potions room, Jen leaned over and inquired somethingof her two friends:

"Is it just me or does he worry about you two?"

"No, it's the three of us he's paranoid about," Mitchie said. "When's the last time you saw Lyff Grudgett in the halls? He's looking out for you."

"Isn't it nice?" Julie remarked.

"I suppose," Jen agreed quietly. There was a long pause of her staring into space even while walking before she spoke again. "Slytherins are like that, only it's more 'nobody hurts this one but me' and such."

"Tell me all Slytherins aren't that bad," Julie begged jokingly, a serious look in her eyes. Jen smiled her typical nervous mouth-only grin. 

"No, the girls are generally alright and there are a lot of good guys from there. Your dad and Professor Malfoy, for example."

Mitchie, of course, stifled a very unladylike and wolfly snort. "Has he punished you as well?" Jen inquired.

"No, I just…must be because he's blond," the American covered. "When'd he punish you?"

"I had a hand in the last little Slytherin tabloid project a couple of months ago. Professor Malfoy turned me upside down until I agreed to apologize."

"Cool!" Mitchie said, causing Jen to cringe.

"Your worst fear's being held upside down?" Julie asked

"Don't you hate it?" Jen asked, cringing. "I can't stand the idea of being dropped on the head. Lyff's just as bad about rusty nails and Jem's so claustrophobic he had to take the curtains off his four-poster. Do you guys have any weird fears like that?"

"I positively detest things getting near my eyes," Mitchie said. "I never have them open without my glasses on ever since I got a bit of gravel in one when I was younger."

"Gravel?"

"Just the tiniest piece. I was running on a rock driveway. It was getting it taken off with the eye doctor's tweezers, though, _that_ was hell. One sneeze and I'm blind for life, you know."

"I'm not sure what I'm really scared of," Julie said. "I mean, there's dying, bu everyone's nervous 'bout that, or Tim and Tom spiking my drink with Veritaserum."

"Would they really do that? Jen asked.

"Don't know."

"I would be fun at parties doped-up on that," Mitchie observed. "Not so much that I have many secrets of my own, but I kept some for other foster kids."

"Let's just face it, Mitch, you're fun at parties doped-up on anything. The Benadryl was funny."

"Last time I ever take Muggle pills."

"Your nose hasn't bothered you since, though, has it?"

"You know Matt Flint takes a potion for his allergies?" Jen revealed. "Mustard, any kind of pear, and radishes could kill him."

"I must remember that. Fancy Flint dying of radishes?"

"Do Americans poison each other often?" Julie inquired, in disgust that they were even discussing Flint. "The 'Radish of Death' sounds a bit too Yankish to be a proper invention."

"I've always gotten a nasty rash from certain nuts, actually," Mitchie announced. "Amd I like them so, it's really a tragedy."

"Try eating them instead of rubbing them on your skin," Jen joked, hand twitching.

"Merlin's sainted aunt Margaret! Jen made a joke!"

"She's funny enough if you tie her up, Yankee." Lyff Grudgett was leaning lazily against a column, partly hidden by shadow. "Or has she been holding out on you Gryffindors?"

"I suggest you crawl back under the rock from whence you came, Lyfften," Julie threatened in a steely voice. 

"Oh, astonishing! The Seeker-slut knows my name!" Lyff crowed, only to be cut short by an inhuman growl from Mitchie, who lunged, wolflike, trying to tear out his throat with her teeth. It was as if in total rage the Yank became a wolf in a human's body, and it was all Julie could do to hold her friend by the shoulders away from Lyff. It didn't help that the professors' daughter was the shortest of the three. "Better get a muzzle for that _thing,"_ Lyff taunted. 

Jen walked up to him as boldly as she could with her neck twitching and smacked him solidly across the face.

"Leave my friends alone, you _bastia castrati!"_

"That's not the only Italian word you know!" Lyff fumed. "How many Gryffindor cocks did you have to suck to-"

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_ a voice yelled, paralyzing the Slytherin into a stiff cardboard cutout of himself. Julie didn't even need to turn around to recognize that voice; low, but like nails on a chalkboard just the same. Raspy. Vile. And most importantly, cruel.

It was Matius Flint.

"Dare I even ask why?" Jen asked him in surprise and fearful shock.

"I don't approve of my man's methods." His use of the word 'man' was clearly in the old Elizabethan sense, meaning 'servant.' "I also think you ladies deserve an apology." 

For only eighteen, Flint had started a beard of surprising quality for his age and kept it neatly trimmed into a style that made his antique terms seem just a bit less eerie coming from him. Jen was clearly afraid of him, however Julie managed to hide it better. Mitchie was only starting to realize she was human dizzily on the stone floor. With an oddly silent tread, Flint walked over in a courtly manner and kissed Jen's trembling hand. He glanced at Mitchie and absently patted her head once in passing to just behind Julie. 

"What is it you're after, Flint?" Julie asked coldly.

"You forgave so readily once upon a time. What happened?"

"I'm not an orphan anymore. I don't need to avoid grudges."

"And yet, Grudgetts would not be a bad move on your part."

"Don't threaten me. I'm less scared of flobberworms."

"May I at least have an answer to a few questions?" Flint whispered, close to Julie's ear. "First of all, how much do you like that wolf? Second, is Jen your charity case or your effort to impress Daddy?" Julie bristled and came close to smacking him. Flint caught her hand. "Fine, then, if you want to be difficult, how does _this_ feel?"

Flint whispered a spell –or curse- so softly and quickly Julie couldn't even distinguish it, and actually touched her chest near the heart with his wand to administer the mind-bending magic. Julie suddenly felt a kind of jump as her heart went from several to what had to be thousands of beats per second, and waves of something that hurt and felt good at the same time seized through her, making her whole form tremble. She saw Jen's shocked expression and Mitchie's terrifed look, just before Flint's serenely cold and slightly amused stare. He bent his neck and whispered in her ear: "Tell me?"

The pulsing feeling suddenly exploded into an insane peak, making Julie's knees weaker than she could remember. Flint held her up. For a moment she considered answering; as either 'bad' or 'amazingly, madly good' would work. As it was Flint, the last scrap of rationality kept her from saying a word, even as he hissed "Later, then," and gave her neck a gentle kiss. 

And then he was gone. Finally.

"Uh…Julie, are you okay?" Mitchie asked.

"That insufferable-" and Jen reeled off another long Italian obscenity as she moved to Julie's side and lifted the other girl's arm over her shoulder. "Come on, Starcatcher."

"What did he do to me?" Julie inquired, still dizzy from whatever the spell had been.

"It's a kind of spell they don't teach at this school. He's done it to me once or twice."

"That bastard didn't use a Defibrillatus, did he?" Mitch asked.

"No, the use of that spell's far from medical. The effects wear off in a few seconds."

"Jen, was it supposed to…well…?" Julie couldn't think of a term for it.

"Yes. It'll wear off as long as you don't get hit with it again."

"Omigod, he didn't-!"

"Sh!" Jen silenced Mitchie. "Flint hit Julie with a curse. That's it."

The Yank looked startled for a moment, and then nodded, understanding why Jen wasn't telling Julie what the spell was. To a Muggle-raised student it could be construed as a nasty curse, offensive but not uncommon, provided one didn't know what the intention of the spell was. To a wizard-born female, however, that particular bit of fairly elementary sex magic was just short of rape. Fortunately, their friend had grown up with Muggles and could be kept in ignorance to protect her feelings. Jen and Mitchie looked at one another in silent agreement; for the first time keeping a secret and defending the Dark Lady.

"I wonder if Donaghan could teach me that curse," Julie wondered. "Or maybe Malfoy."

"Starcatcher, I would pay money to see you ask Professor Malfoy to teach you that." The emergency passed, Jen was back to her no-first-names rule. Mitchie developed a severe case of the giggles from her remark and had to excuse herself for a moment. 

"I understand he worked with the Auroriè Français for awhile, he would probably know it," the Yank observed. Jen shot her a positively vemomous look behind Julie's back. 

"I'm okay, really," Julie protested, seeing her friends were acting as if she'd gotten hit with a Cruciatus. "Whatever Flint did, it sure didn't hurt worth a damn."

"Okay," Jen said, reluctantly taking Julie's arm from her shoulder. For a few moments it had been nice to have Julie be the confused one instead of her. It was incredible how lightly Starcatcher could take a spell like that, even if she didn't know the ramifications. Why, Jen had been out of her right mind for long enough afterwards the first time Flint used that curse on her for him to…nevermind. It wasn't worth reliving now, and the stress was making her hand shake.

********************************************************** 

"Are you taking your guitar along to America?" Hermione asked Michelle in the hallway outside of 'rehearsal'. 

"Nope. Something might happen to it. I'll just buy another when we stop off at Site One before New Orleans."

"Your hometown?"

"City," Mitchie corrected. "Yep, it's there. Besides, I sort of want a different kind to blend in to the style down South."

"Oh, some kind of a bluegrass Cajun sort?"

"Yeah, like maybe a chrome-bodied resonator body with thirty-fret neck, that'd be better. Especially if there's any physical combat, a chrome body's better for hitting with."

"You've got to be joking. Surely the American Aurory wouldn't permit-"

"I mean between Jules and Malfoy. I might have to break 'em up." Mitchie made a gesture indicating herself in the middle of two arguing wizards. Hermione smiled.

"Really, I don't think it's all that bad. They've been getting better since the beginning of the year." Mitchie smiled and resumed tuning her instrument as her professor wiped her foster brother's face. The convenient bench outside the Muggle Studies room was perfect for all three to wait until they were needed on, even if Hermione was only sticking around to get an idea of what her daughter would face in the Colonies. "Actually, Michelle, there's something I'm kind of curious about."

"If it's about the giant squid, I did _not_ do it."

"No, seriously, Michelle, …what happened to the giant squid?"

"Tom and Tim were out of ink, so they tickled it with a quill tied to a broom until it did the inky squid thing and then got some in a jar for class, but the letters got up and crawled off the parchment. 'Least that's what I heard."

"Oh. "

"So what were you curious about with me?"

"Well…ever since Jen Blodgett got moved into Gryffindor, maybe even earlier," Mitchie thought she knew what was coming and nodded with a grin. "Do you know if Julie's dating anyone?"

Uh-oh. That was not the question Mitchie'd expected.

"Well, actually, Professor Granger, I haven't seen her with anyone." That was true. The Brit was damn careful not to let anyone catch her with her secret boyfriend, Mitchie included. 

"Doesn't she tell you about stuff like that?" Hermione persisted.

"Uh, well, yeah, but…you know how …teenage girls and all are."

"You have to keep it a secret?"

"Uh, sort of, yeah," Mitchie replied lamely.

"Oh. But she does fancy someone?"

"Yeah."

"And that someone's …a he?"

"Uh, _yeah,_ per'fessor, why are you asking _me_ this?"

"Oh, no reason. Just wondered."

"Does this have something to do with the Slytherins?"

"Why would it have anything to do with Slytherins?"

"Well, today in the halls…" Mitchie briefly related the events of the past afternoon. "Don't worry, she thinks it was just a curse. Jen and I figured she'd take it better that way."

"That was very clever of you to keep it from her. As much as honesty is the best policy, Julie doesn't need that a month before you four have to leave. How did Chloe take it?"

"Take what?" the first-year asked, appearing from around the corner.

"Oh, something after Defense Against the Dark Arts today, nothing major," Mitchie covered. "I need to get this guitar tuned up, though."

"About that, Mitch, I was wondering if you could teach me to play sometime?" Chloe inquired.

"Oh, sure! How 'bout after rehearsal, in the Common Room?"

"Merci beaucoup. I've always been curious about guitars, Mamà only lets me play the piano at home."

As the American and part-veela began a discussion of comparative musical styles, Hermione took A.J. into the Muggle Studies room, where Julie and Malfoy were happily engaged in practicing imperiosity and servitude respectively as Ron role-played de Diablo to small effect. The professor took advantage of the female Slytherin's studious reverie to return the book she had confiscated from her cousin.

Lyff Grudgett had stolen his ex-girlfriend's diary earlier in the day and then made the supreme mistake of reading passages out loud while poor Dean fixed a student who had spilled undiluted bubotuber pus on their arm in Potions class. Unfortunately for Lyff, Professor Granger had returned to get something from her office and neatly 'ripped him a new one,' as the American was wont to say, in addition to taking the diary. Normally Hermione would never be so dishonest as to read a student's –or anyone else's- private thoughts, but what she had heard from Lyff was dangerous enough that it justified the means of finding out what Jen had been dealing with.

As the professor watched the Slytherin memorize her lookalike's mannerisms, she knew full well that the look Jen gave Julie was not merely scrutiny to learn. 

It was the gaze of a full-fledged hopeless crush. Hermione only hoped Julie would wake up to the situation before Jen got up the nerve to make a move and prevent it gently, or the already-fragile Slytherin would get her heart broken on an oblivious and already taken –not to mention straight- Gryffindor. 

Really, things had been much simpler when her husband went to school. Hermione could only remember two girls in her House with crushes on others, whereas poor Severus was shocked by reruns of Muggle MTV sometimes. Ah, well. At least Hogwarts did not have the Muggle Internet.

******************************************************** 

"This is 'C major,' and then you move first and second fingers to third through first string, second fret, good, third finger on second string, third fret, that's 'D'. Switch between those three chords on the tab sheet here."

"Oh, I see, the numbers are the4 frets and the lines the strings?"

"Exactly. Try it." Mitchie began to sing the words along with Chloe's shaky playing to keep her on track. "Miss Otis regrets she's unable to lunch today, madam…Miss Otis regrets-"

"Hey, I know this song! It's Cole Porter!"

"Yeah, want to try singing?"

"Could I see you play it first?"

"I can do it with notes and chords, that okay?" Chloe nodded and Mitchie slung the strap over her shoulder and started playing, expertly and very fast. _"Miss Otis regrets she's unable to lunch today.  
Miss Otis regrets she's unable to lunch today, hmmm…  
And she's sorry to be delayed, but last evening down in Lover's Lane she strayed,  
Miss Otis regrets she's unable to lunch today."_

It was a sordid and enjoyable little ditty, rather cheerful in tune, and Mitchie proceeded to relate the tale of Miss Otis' shooting her lover and eventually being hanged for it by an angry mob in song. Chloe and a few others knew the song, and it was to a chorus of first-years and an American werewolf that Jen opened the portrait hole, trembling. Julie was not far behind her.

"Jen, it's nothing so important as all that. I mean, really-"

"You didn't have to live with those bastards! Why the hell would you want to risk doing that?"

"Alright, I won't do it! It just seemed like a fun idea, that's all."

"Her idea of fun is going to get you hurt someday! I'm not saying you don't need to lighten up, but gods, Julie!"

"What did you call me?"

"Julie, that's what you like to be called, isn't it?"

"You've always called me Starcatcher before."

"I know."

"Jen, you're shaking, what's-"

Chloe had suddenly straightened, eyes wide, staring suspiciously at Jen.

"I don't feel so good…"

The Slytherin slumped to the floor in a dead faint and then began twitching spastically, eyes rolled back to the whites. Somebody yelled something incoherent about her being possessed, and Tom Weasley rushed over and tried to hold her down, only to be shoved away by Chloe, of all people.

"Back off! Get 'zhese chairs moved back! Move it!" Mitchie and Julie, not to mention everyone else in the common room, shot her a look of awe. "It's only a seizure. She's not possessed."

"_Only a seizure?" Julie asked, a hair from hysterical. Chloe seized a cushion from one of the fat red chairs and put it beneath Jen's head._

"My friend Colline's epileptic. 'Zhese things 'appen." The first-year stomped her foot. "Well? Go get Madam Pomfrey! Don't just stand 'zhere!"

A good many of the students left through the portrait hole and a few scampered off to their respective dormitories so as not to be in the way. Within minutes, only a few fifth-yers girls plus Julie, Mitchie, Tim, Mack, and Donaghan were there following the first-year's orders and waiting for Jen to return to normal. Sure enough, the convulsions stopped and the dark-haired girl appeared to be unconscious. It was then that Madam Pomfey arrived on the scene. Chloe and Julie told her what happened.

"Yes, that sounds like a seizure, right enough. She's lucky somebody knew what to do!" The nurse quickly amplified Jen's pulse and checked her pupils for dilation. "Definitely seizure. Good thinking, Chloe."

In moments, Jen was gone, having been lifted by Donaghan and Mack onto the stretcher the nurse conjured and levitated away to the hospital wing. The rest of the Gryffindors simply stood there, shocked by what had happened to their new comrade. Chloe shook her head in disgust and stomped off to her room.

"'She's possessed!' Honestly! You English!"

Mitchie and Julie were the only ones besides Aldous who knew the first-year was on the verge of tears. Some of them were as well. It was strange how it affected all of them, but suddenly it felt like Jen had been a Gryffindor forever and they were all worried.

It was February eleventh, two-thousand nineteen.

Noone had any idea it was somebody's birthday.

************************************************************** 

A/N: Dark stuff ahead in the next chapter…and then some lovely Valentine's Day fluff to balance matters out. Reviews for the plot gerbils? (if reviews work…)

Sorry ff.net's been out so long!

-J. McN.


	50. Festal Preparations

Chapter Fifty: Festal Preparations

"Sure is strange…You've got to pick up every stitch. You've got to pick up every stitch…Oh, no! Must be the season of the witch! Must be the season of the witch, yeah! Must be the season of the witch!"

                  -Donovan Leitch, 1968

"What's wrong with her?" a nervous Head of Gryffindor House inquired of the Hogwarts nurse.

"Epilepsy," Madam Pomfrey replied bitterly.

"Oh. Well, that's quite common, isn't it?" Snape asked.

"Organic epilepsy, yes. This is mechanical epilepsy," the nurse announced, looking about as homicidally offended as a kind nurse can. 

"Mechanical?" Hermione asked, frowning. "I don't understand."

"Let me explain," Madam Pomfrey said, sounding more cynical than either professor had ever heard her. "Organic epilepsy is caused by the brain itself and there's no avoiding it, like allergies. Mechanical epilepsy occurs when something damages the brain, thus causing the seizures. Most commonly, it's caused by forceful, blunt trauma to the head." The nurse indicated a moving, translucent image on a large piece of what looked like flexible plastic. "In this case, Jennifer was beaten repeatedly with a hard and most likely square object."

"Textbook," a disembodied voice announced. Mitchie pulled Professor Potter's cloak off to reveal a grave expression.

"What do you know about seizure disorders, Miss Tyler?" Madam Pomfrey asked coldly. "Jennifer's problem is anything _but_ textbook."

"No, I mean Lyff Grudgett _hit_ her with a textbook," the Yank explained. "There's your blunt object."

"How long have you been up here? It's past curfew," Severus told the girl.

"Not to be insubordinate, per'fessor, but I know that." The American was already busy pulling out cards and boxes of Hogsmeade sweets from beneath the cloak and setting them out on Jen's bedside table. "Just per'tend I'm a very large owl delivering these."

"Is all of this from the Gryffindors?" Hermione asked, surprised and pleased by her House's behavior. The American grinned and indicated various heaps of sweets and cards.

"Well, all of _this_ is from the Griffies, some of _these_ are from Ravenclaw, the Hufflepuffs made _these_, and Alexei Malgryevic sent _these_ from the girl Slytherins." The latter was a box of Pepper Imps. "According to him, they're Jen's favorite."

"Excuse me a moment," Professor Snape said, a very nasty expression on his face. It was clear that he had a few very nasty things in mind for Lyff Grudgett.

"Wait, Severus. I need you to owl Jennifer's parents."

"Haven't you done that yet, Poppy?"

"They refused the owl when they heard it was about Jen. I don't think they'll listen to anyone but the Head of Slytherin."

"She's deathly ill! What are they thinking?"

"Actually, per'fessors," the Yank said quietly, "Jen hasn't got an owl back from her parents since she dropped Grudgett."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Snape looked positively furious. "If those old clans cared as much about their daughters as they do about their damn bloodline maybe half the wives wouldn't kill themselves!" He stormed out and the remaining faculty sighed. Mitchie looked positively shaken.

"Half the females in Jen's fam'ly kill themselves?"

"It's not quite that bad anymore, dear, but it was when Professor Snape was a boy," Madam Pomfrey explained sadly. "I don't see what we're going to do if Jen's been disowned."

"Why? What's the treatment for epilepsy?" Hermione asked.

"There's two options. One is trying to regulate the disorder with potions, which in Jen's case would be like a death sentence. The other is simply to have the problem corrected entirely at St. Mungo's. There's a very low risk of relapses, and if there are any, they're usually just petit mal-" the nurse realized neither person had any idea what 'petit mal' meant and explained the term: "-little ones. The problem is that there's no way they'll do the surgery without insurance to cover it and her parents' consent. I don't see what can be done for her."

"I'm owling Blaise Zabini," Hermione announced. The Auror was an old school acquaintance of hers, and judging by Jen's middle name, not only the girl's aunt but her godmother. "If the Blodgetts haven't gotten to her first, odds are she'll take Jennifer's side in this matter."

It was likely. After a disastrous relationship with Marcus Flint that ended very much like Jen and Lyff Grudgett's, Blaise had put in for a transfer to the Auroriè Français and worked on the Continent ever since, only returning on occasion to see her older sister's family. Hermione was fairly certain Malfoy had worked with her and could be counted on to help convince her if necessary. 

Professor McGonagall was right.  She did worry about the kids in her House, even if they'd only been there a matter of weeks.

*************************************************************** 

Wednesday dawned cold and clear, a splendid sort of weather for February twelfth. Instead of reveling in the beautiful morning, however, the Gryffindors slunk silently down to breakfast. Most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws looked sympathetic, but the Slytherins seemed oblivious as to why the Gryffindors looked like someone had died.

"Something wrong, Starcatcher?" Flint asked in a low voice, following closely behind the object of his desire and whispering into her ear. In seconds, both of the werewolves had leapt to her defense, pinning him to the stone wall just outside of the Great Hall. 

"Get out o' here before I _send_ y'," Donaghan threatened.

"Oh, it's you, McPhersen, and the wolf as well." Flint smiled a sadistic sort of grin. "Had any good bones lately?" he taunted.

"If'n y' don' leave Julie an' m'girl alone, Flint, I swear,"

"Oh, so you're into bestiality, are 'y', Scot?" Flint mocked Donaghan's thick accent. "Let's hope her bark's worse than her –er, bite."

The fight started immediately after that. Donaghan and Flint were soon throwing punches and attempting to throttle each other, wands forgotten. Unfortunately, the Slytherin was bigger and had had more experience with brutality, so a few moments had Donaghan being held a few inches off the ground by his neck. Mitchie leapt into the fray and succeeded in freeing her boyfriend by tackling Flint, but another instant had her in a headlock, Flint's knife at her throat.

"A little trick you showed me, Starcatcher," the Slytherin hissed. Mitchie was flinching from the blade as if it might burn her and making the sort of noise a scared puppy does. "Silver has such an amusing effect on werewolves, wouldn't you say?"

"Let 'er go," Donaghan implored huskily, barely having caught his breath.

"Flint," Julie threatened, her wand drawn and pointed at his neck. Flint pulled the American closer and moved the knife toward her throat.

"One word from you, Starcatcher, and she dies."

"Drop the knife or I make you," Julie responded.

"Isn't she something, Scot? So violent." Flint smiled again, this time at Julie. "Wouldn't you just kill to know who she dropped you for?"

"Let my friend go, Flint. You've got no idea what you're dealing with."

"Oh, don't I," he asked sarcastically, throwing the American to the ground roughly and moving close to whisper in Julie's ear: "Pureblood?"

"What did you call me?" she asked, paler than usual but still able to hide most of her shock.

"You heard me," the Slytherin said with a grin, and left. 

Julie was now positively terrified, while the werewolves were kissing obliviously, relieved that neither one had been hurt in the encounter. For an instant she felt a momentary stab of jealousy that she couldn't get away with doing that, but the feeling disappeared as the professor in question appeared.

"What happened? They said there was a-" Malfoy noticed the American and Scot going at it like randy lemurs. "Julie, what-?"

"There was a scuffle with Matt Flint just a second ago." She gave Mitchie a royal nudge with her foot.

"Oh, yeah, there was-" the Yank agreed momentarily before Donaghan pulled her close yet again. Malfoy gave Julie a look of confusion and she shrugged, pulling him away both to prevent him punishing her insensible friends and to spare herself the sight.

"Flint was fighting Donaghan and Mitchie got into it, but the bastard got a knife to her throat. Silver blade."

"That little-"

"That's not the worst of it-"

"I'll kill him-"

"Draco, he knows!"

For a moment Malfoy stared at the fifth-year, shocked. Then the humor of how disturbingly this all resembled a Nicole Kidman movie from the turn of the century hit Julie like a brick and she was reduced to near-hysterical laughter. Being terrified had lots more to do with it.

"Are you alright?" the professor asked.

"It's just so…" 

And Julie was gone. It was as if she had triple-dosed on one of Professor Flitwick's Cheering Charms. Giggling madly, she proceeded to explain, rather incoherently, just why this whole Flint business was humorous. Just before Malfoy could yank her off to Madam Pomfrey's to calm down somewhat, a loud _'Gaah!'_ was heard.

Turning around, Julie and Draco were treated to the splendidly ridiculous sight of the werewolves looking guilty as Professor Longbottom struggled to get up. He had neatly tripped over them as they grew closer to the floor, and first-years were giggling all around like mad. For a few seconds there was silence save the giggling, and then Malfoy and Julie lost it entirely. Another second passed before the Yank was giggling just as hard, and after kissing the Scot again to the first-years' applause, Mitchie succeeded in helping the grievously blushing professor and her boyfriend off the floor.

"Just testing the stone floor, you understand," she told the crowd of first-years, with a shining grin as if it were perfectly understandable two days from Valentine's. 

******************************************************** 

"And who's his uncle's little boy? Yes, you your uncle's little boy! Yes…"

Harry made absolutely no sense to anyone as he tickled A.J. and made him laugh. For a baby with such a notably dour father and studious mother, baby Albus was easily as prone to giggling as the small Potters. Lily had just learned to call the newcomer 'Ay-day,' and small Hermione insisted that bottles were not sufficient food for babies (not understanding the subtlety of what infants really ate,) and attempted to give her honorary cousin a teething biscuit, which was one of the twins' favorite treats. They were walking fairly well now for nine-month-olds, and starting to talk in what sort of resembled sentences. Most often they were given free run of a large penned area while Ginny worked at her desk, although Harry was fairly often found playing right with them.

In a kind of bizarre retribution for his own uncle's mistreatment, Harry had decided to be the best honorary uncle imaginable to his friends' and eventually Ron's children. Tom, Tim, and just about anybody else who liked babies had a shot at winning house points by minding the small ones on occasion, except lately Mitchie, Julie, and Chloe had cornered the game on that. Once 'Grandma' had come to see Lily and Hermione, only to discover them being given improptu riding lessons by Chloe and Julie on what appeared to be a large auburn wolf. Molly Weasley, having had six sons, was not an easy woman to surprise, but a werewolf with the grandbabies accomplished it. 

Another amusing situation was when Sirius Black had come to visit his godson. He inquired after the twins, only to be told they were 'racing.' A split-second later, small Lily and Hermione appeared in Muggle backpacks with legholes, shouting for the 'ponies' to go faster. Sirius nearly swallowed a tonsil when he saw the one carrying Hermione looked a damn lot like Severus Snape.

"Who are- oh."

It was the first time Julie and Sirius had met.

"You must be Mr. Black. I'm Julie Starcatcher." A half-pause later, she added "Snape," still not quite used to it.

"Ah, yes…I've –er, heard a lot about –erm, Quidditch, and the -Seeking." The poor man was flustered. Snape's dark hair and nose on a female –yikes! "You play for the Gryffindors?"

"Yes, sir. Daddy felt it best I should go in that House. This is Mitchie Tyler-"

"Cass and John's daughter!"

Mitchie beamed. "I worked with your parents after the war. You look just like your mum."

"Thank you," the American blushed fiercely.

Just then, Lily and Hermione began to protest and tug their ponies' ponytails. All in all, Black had gotten more used to his old nemesis' daughter in her mum's presence, where Julie appeared just as much Granger as Snape. Her appearance tended to startle lots of people at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's parties, such as the time Bill Weasley came up from Egypt to see his nieces. Somehow the news of the events of September, and for that matter, sixteen years ago, had not reached him, and he accused Ginny four times of 'putting him on, old Snape's got a kid?' Finally, he went to dinner in the Great Hall still in disbelief, just in time to see Julie and his nephews walk in laughing. Harry still found Bill shooting pumpkin juice from his nose to be one of the funnier anecdotes.

But by and large, the best reaction to the younger generation had been from Harry's estranged cousin. Out of politeness, he had sent a courteous note announcing his daughters' birth, and apparently Dudley was stupid enough to be shocked by what the three Gryffindor witches did at Broughton. Mitchie had spent a good ten minutes detailing how they had frightened the opprobrious man out of adopting Julie's old school friend, though she did seem to feel rather bad for the poor woman Dudley was married to. The Muggle equivalent of a Howler Harry had gotten relating the anecdote in Dudley's scrawly penmanship was still in pride of place impaled on Ginny's corkboard, where she would glance for a quick laugh or inspiration while writing.

Watching A.J. during odd meetings and the potions convention a week ago was a lot of fun, Harry had decided. Three babies made for more work than the Quidditch World Cup sometimes, but all the happy giggling was worth it. His ex-professor had definitely softened in his estimation since A.J.'s birth. There's something about seeing a grown man play peek-a-boo with his baby that makes everyone look better. In fact, Ginny had been talking about a short trip to see Charlie next month and leaving the girls with the Granger-Snapes…maybe it wasn't quite such a bad idea.

************************************************************ 

"And this year, not only will I reiterate that Love Potions of _any_ kind are strictly forbidden," Professor McGonagall looked at Tom and Tim scathingly, "but for this year's Valentine's Day dance, alumni and students' parents are invited."

A mixture of horror and elation greeted this message. Most Gryffindors stood and applauded, as did many students from other houses, whilst anyone with worries about their grades or behavioral records slouched down in dismay. Jen, having just been released from the hospital wing, was among the distressed of course, whilst Tom and Tim were almost obnoxiously happy. To some the idea of having their parents or older siblings present was marvelous; some, hoping to have gotten in a few Valentine's Day kisses, were less pleased by it.

"Also, there is now a large sealed box with a slot in it at the entrance to the Great Hall, and another in the library. Any valentines you wish delivered anonymously can be deposited there. And no, there will be no cupids, don't even ask."

"Wonder what-all kind of Valentines you lot get," Tim mused, gesturing with a piece of bacon at the Gryffindor fifth-year girls and Chloe, who were seated together to discuss dress robes.

"Suppose there'll be very many rhyming ones, like last year?" Tom asked.

"Ten Sickles says Chloe gets a rhyming one," Mack suggested, giving the first-year a friendly grin and passing the plate of sausages. "And one of those suicide threats for Jules."

"What?" Julie asked, a bit disgustedly.

"You know, 'go out with me or I'll poison myself,' that sort of thing."

"How depressing," Mitchie remarked, looking at her fork. "One would much prefer a nice self-defenestration threat, so much more civilized."

"Mitch!" Tom, Tim, and Mack cried in unison.

"That's horrible! No man would ever…nevermind."

"What you mean, boys, is 'emasculate,'" Chloe observed in her flawless way. "'Defenestrate' means to throw out of a window."

"Crikey, Yank, big words today," Jen said. 

"Well, the swelling on her tongue's gone down since yesterday," Julie observed snidely. "Must have sprained it, she did, with that rough workout."

The tale of yesterday's snogfest was quickly related to Jen, who looked like she could do with some cheering up. Several heartless jokes were then made at the American's expense, until Donaghan appeared late to breakfast and greeted her somewhat spectacularly. 

"Get a room, wolfies," Chloe suggested sarcastically. At this both of them stood up as if thinking it a lovely idea and convulsing the others, until Mack realized she had called them both 'wolfies.'

"Donaghan, you aren't-?" the Chaser asked. To everyone's surprise, Donaghan nodded.

"Did you bite him?" Tim accused Mitchie with a grin.

"Yes an' na, guys, I've been a werewolf since 'Alloween."

This revelation was met with a sharp silence.

"But you're not denying she's bitten you?" Tom asked rather merrily.

"Well…" Donaghan and Mitchie both adjusted their collars, forcing their friends again into uncontrollable laughter. 

"Let's just say we play sometimes, and wolves sort of nibble ears." Mitchie looked as though this were a perfectly usual explanation, until the double entendre hit her in the head. "I mean when we're wolves, you know, not people!"

"Well, dear…" Donaghan whispered, making her blush worse. 

After Donaghan came out, approval of their relationship skyrocketed. A few people had been stiff with them when they appeared together, partially because they worried about Donaghan dating what some people still considered a nonhuman, and partially because he and Julie had been so cute. Now with the Quidditch captain and expatriate an established pair, it became the object of a few certain very mischievous male Gryffindors to set their Seeker up.

The slotted boxes were quickly filled by the entire school.

****************************************************** 

"When's your birthday, Jen?" Lucy Christie asked that afternoon in the Common Room, head bent over an Arithmancy textbook. 

"The twenty-third of October, why?"

"Oh, good. I was just checking your stars…if you were born when Julie was and had a twin you'd be doomed to perpetual bad luck."

"So glad I don't, then," Jen remarked rather sarcastically.

"No, you're just going to have trouble in early life but…oooh."

"What's 'oooh'?"

"You're going to find true love at age sixteen."

"Oh, _make_ me vomit, Lucy," Hannah Stern retorted. "You've gotten straight halves in -oh, cripe, you're right." The Gryffindor girls both looked at the chart until Jen finally came over to investigate.

"Either way, I don't believe in that." Jen stretched her arms lazily and cracked her neck. "I think it's a bunch of bullshit."

"The namesake of my old school once said the exact same thing," Mitchie announced from behind her sketch diary. "Except the predictions of _his_ death all came true with a vengeance."

"I never said she would _die_, just find true love, that's all."

"Well, you know, Lucy, in America the minute you find true love you die. Except as you're dying you get incredibly prettier and it always starts with a suspicious cough or a bad habit."

"What kind of idea is that?" Hannah asked in profound disgust.

"Really, don't you people _watch_ movies?" Mitchie lowered the book, grinning broadly. "The prettiest or most interesting girl of the lot always dies after she falls in love with the penniless writer. So, Chloe…"

"You are not nice," the French girl observed, not even looking up from her homework. The others were laughing too hard to really notice when Julie came back looking winded and with her school tie askew.

"The deed is done," she announced with great dignity. Everyone was suddenly quiet. Mitchie and Chloe's eyes widened in shock.

_"Julie,"_ the Yank asked, nearly horrified. "In the middle of the day?"

"Not everyone's from Pittsburgh," Chloe remarked acidly.

"Not _that_ deed!" Julie protested, looking offended. "I just spiked the Slytherins' pumpkin juice."

"With what, pray tell?" Hannah asked, looking as though the holiday had just started early.

_"This,"_ Julie held up a half-empty bottle from the St. Just-Weasley Potion Shop. "Thanks to the pioneering efforts of Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs," the girls all stood and faced the fireplace respectfully, "I was able to procure some Delayed-Action Diureserum."

"You didn't!" Jen cried, looking happier then they had seen her in quite awhile. "The incontinence potion…isn't that illegal?"

"Since when would that stop Julie?" Mitchie asked, cracking open butterbeers and passing them around.

"They didn't sell me the complete form, actually, I had to add the ascorbic acid."

"Where the devil did you get-"

"Mummy helped."

"Merlin's arse!"

"You mean to tell me that Professor Granger helped you play a prank on the Slytherins?"

"Well, I…convinced her it was in the interest of a lofty cause."

"You lied."

"Nope, she knows and has already warned Mr. Filch to wax their part of the floor in the Great Hall. I merely explained to her the aesthetic merits of some light entertainment at the dance…Lyff Grudgett publicly wetting himself, per say." Julie had on one of her best evil little smiles. "It was her idea," she explained, pointing at Mitchie.

"Now don't go giving me all the credit! I suggested we spike them with –nevermind. The Diureserum was your idea."

"Actually, that was Tom and Tim's mothers'. It's good to know some traits run in families."

"You guys are going to make Lyff wet himself for me?" Jen inquired, looking gratified.

"That was the idea, yeah."

"We'll distract him and delay him and even stake Nearly Headless Nick to guard the boy's lavatory if we must, but _yes,_ the trousers of Grudgett shall be moistened!" Mitchie waved her drink in a grandiose gesture.

"Dampened." Julie clarified.

"Besodded," chipped in Hannah.

_"Deluged,"_ Chloe finished in her superior French way. "Like the antediluvian rains of old-"

"Guys, it's not like you've got that much equipment to work with there," Jen reminded, convulsing them even further.

Professor Granger's Tegretolus Potion had completely removed the shaking from her hands. All of the joyful pranks and festal preparations were also helping, and Jen found herself smiling more than she knew she had in years. She had friends, she had a safe House-

Suddenly the portrait hole opened and the girls stifled their laughter. Very nervously, Mack walked over to the new Griffie.

"Er- Jen? I was wondering if- well, maybe…"

And she had a date.

Jen liked Mack well enough, but lately she had been more drawn to the Gryffindors' Seeker. It was shocking, unusual, probably immoral- and perfectly common in Slytherin. The House with the greatest number of dirty little secrets had one other, the silent search for solace among bruised females. As much as they backstabbed and cheated and held grudges, the Slytherin women were not heartless. Most often Jen had merely sought comfort or had comfort sought from her after Lyff or someone had taken out their frustrations on some girl's flesh. She wasn't quite to the point some of the older ones were, giving up on men entirely, but she had learned the ability to take it where she could get it, as it were, and could fall in love in spite of anything.

Her secret fascination with Muggle Studies had caused her to spend a bit more time than Lyff really liked perusing the art section of the library. Ofttimes she would keep a copy of some erotic text open on top of the collected paintings of Toulouse-Lautrec, just in case Lyff should sneak up and look over her shoulder. That was the only kind of studying he liked his girl to do. 

Here in Gryffindor, though, it was so different. Julie had caught her with Toulouse and actively taken an interest, providing tidbits of extended detail about the artist and many of his subjects recalled from her research at the Dennon Street library. Where Starcatcher had become interested in Lautrec due to a Muggle film, however, Jen was drawn to his understanding of the tortured grisettes and courtesans in nineteenth-century France. Gods, everyone here was so nice that way! Not a single person had begged her to drag out the horrors of her past days, yet all made it clear that if she needed to talk, they would be there for her. Any interest she showed was applauded and even assisted with, like her Muggle Studies bent, whereas in Slytherin even mentioning you liked something unusual got you shunned temporarily in the Common Room and beaten up by your boyfriend later for being 'difficult.' Gryffindors were kinder and happier, more prone to harmless jokes than cruel intrigues, and incredibly more welcoming to newcomers.

So far the most welcoming was Julie.

The little French one was nice also, no question, and the American couldn't help but make Jen laugh constantly. And Stern and Christie were such a change from the subservient girlfriends of Slytherins with their pair of double cousins they jokingly ordered about sometimes. But Julie was the one Jen liked best so far. Maybe it was her Slytherinish tendencies, maybe it was her cheerfulness in spite of everything. Or maybe it was just that Starcatcher had been the first one to reach out to Jen. Either way, what it all amounted to was a hopeless, stinging crush on someone unattainable.

The strange thing about crushes, though, is that one would rather have one than drive affection from their heart.

******************************************************** 

"We haven't time to owl," President Alden Feldman observed. "I need the British Auror Office team here by twenty-four hundred hours tomorrow."

"But they're not scheduled to arrive until the eleventh of March, sir, will they be ready?"

"If I know Albus Dumbledore," Alden said, trust strengthening his shaky voice, "they've been adequately ready since November."

"Yes, sir." 

The Secretary left to go give the order and Alden sank back into his favorite chair. It had been a hell of a forty-eight hours, giving orders to use mass Obliviates on the three Muggle border towns devastated by de Diablo's birthday celebrations. Members of the Ku Klux Klan had been found nailed to burning crosses alive by magic, white supremacists gutted, skinned, and hung like steers-

'Or lynching victims,' Alden thought ironically.

It was easy to feel sympathy for Santa Anna de Diablo's cause, which was a kind of reverse racism against the kind of southern rednecks who'd killed his family. However, that was why he now had so many followers, and his methods more than justified annihilation. Alden had nearly been impeached for not calling out magical militia to dispose of him vigilante-style. But he was nearly impeached every other month for being 'too damn close to Britain' anyway. It had been on the advice of his hero, Albus Dumbledore, to institute the sting operation every American bureaucrat hoped would work. Vigilante deaths created martyrs, and the last thing Mexican-American relations needed was a martyr legend for wrongdoers to unite under.

The only problem Alden had with the British Auror Office was their secrecy. He understood the idea of a 'Dark Lady,' but as of twenty-four hours before the mission would have to start, he had no idea of her real identity. 

Silently, he crossed the thirteenth off of his calendar. The clock read twelve thirty-one. It was now Valentine's Day.

Irony of ironies.


	51. The Afraid

Chapter Fifty-One: The Afraid

"Which is worse; to be so afraid of pain that you cannot love, or to love someone impossible?"  
                  -Anonymous

The Slytherin professor knew it was ridiculous to even consider what he was about to do. The bushy-haired girl serving detention with him was his student, barely sixteen, and most definitely off-limits to a thirty-four-year-old. She was even in Gryffindor. And yet- she was undeniably intelligent. Brilliance of the mind had always been more important to him than beauty of the physical nature, and the girl unfortunately possessed credible amounts of both. Her hair wasn't half as wild when she took some time with it, and her teeth had been fixed quite some time ago. 

He liked her. She was as apt to argue with you for an hour as she was to outdo you in front of the class you were teaching –hers, no less- as she was to innocently ask questions about something or other as innocently and attentively as if you were Dumbledore. Without her, the class moved slower, and detentions were more a privilege lately than a chore in her presence. Ever since she had started his subject, he had noticed her aptitude, and beginning her sixth-year project early was turning into one of the best ideas Minerva had ever had. Simple tolerance had turned into appreciation, and finally into genuine liking of his underage near-colleague.

He was attracted to her. That was unquestionable and unquestionably not his fault. Who could fault a man when such an absentmindedly adorable girl sought him out? And she was adorable, twirling a bit of her hair and turning pages in the heavy text as if it were a fascinating novel instead of a boring schoolbook. The school uniform didn't hurt, either, having obviously been designed by either some long-forgotten female of exactly her body type or a male professor with exactly his problem. Honestly, having those kinds of thoughts…

Severus Snape had no choice but to stop stirring the cauldron. Hermione Granger, of course, looked up, so abrupt and unlike him was the pause.

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

"No -nothing." He was lying and they both knew it. Without even realizing he was about to, Severus leaned over and kissed the girl long and well. 

The moment having passed, there was a shocked silence. Neither could really believe what had happened had. He was just about to apologize when she suddenly smiled and kissed him back gently. 

Nearly eighteen years later, they were making the same potion, this time for two students instead of another professor, and with a few small improvements. Unspoken but ever-present whenever they worked together on Wolfsbane potion was the memory of what had occurred long ago, for as small as a few kisses before Hagrid came stomping in with a sick flobberworm were, it had been the start of something that would alter both of their lives forever. 

"Here's the mugwort."

"Thank you, dear. I've finished getting these chopped."

"Wonderful." Severus kissed his clever wife on the cheek before adding the anise roots to the left cauldron. It had been her idea to do the one batch that way, as Donaghan had been having bad reactions to wormwood lately. Having people with hallucinations of little green fairies was one thing, but a wolf was quite another. They also had to get enough of the other kind made and stocked for the trip to America, as no werewolf's dose was exactly like another's. Remus Lupin, for example, tolerated a lot more mugwort in his than Michelle Tyler could, being female and reasonably smaller, and Donaghan's was always a trial since he was still getting used to transformations at all. That, and it was becoming fairly obvious that hereditary werewolves had fewer problems with potion lycanthropy controllers than bitten ones did. When all the mess with the Colonies was over, the Granger-Snapes planned to research this idea more thoroughly, using the Scot and American as observation subjects…

'When all the mess with the Colonies was over.' It was becoming an all-encompassing delay, sort of like a foreign war they really had no connection to, save their children's enlistment to go fight it. Everyone who knew about it was becoming more and more nervous, from Ron and Judy openly kissing in the halls to Poppy Pomfrey digging out a large quantity of old records from her schooldays for Julie and the American. Some people from the British Auror Office, in fact, were openly opposed to the whole idea. Sirius Black had been one of the most vocal, trying to persuade them to talk Julie out of it. 

"What do the Colonies have to do with her? It's their fight!"

"Sirius, Dumbledore asked her to go-"

"This isn't like Voldemort! This is their problem! How long did it take the Americans to help us in our last war?"

"They had problems of their own to deal with, Sirius," Snape pointed out. It was true. American Muggles had been at war against the Middle Eastern ones at the time. "That doesn't mean they didn't send people like the Tylers in ample time."

"The Americans got here in plenty of time to help clean up the mess, all the while posing for world papers! It's worse than…" it took Sirius a moment to remember the Muggle word, "Vietnam!"

"Which one was that, dear?"

"The one where all the American teenagers protested and the government lost more than half of its approval until the turn of the century."

"Oh, yes. I was thinking you meant Entebbe, Sirius."

"Which was that?" Harry's godfather asked, now confused himself.

"An airplane of Israeli travelers was hijacked and they had to rescued by a team of crack operatives because the governments couldn't get together to organize military aid."

"Do you consider your _sixteen-year-old daughter_ a crack operative?"

"Look, Black, I've bloody _tried_ to talk her out of it! Do you honestly think I want her going off to the damn States almost all alone? What do you want me to do, ground her?"

"It would be a start!" Sirius retorted, storming out of the classroom in disgust and running smack into a pair of eavesdroppers. "Tyler, you don't really want to go to America?" he started.

"Just fancy the owl!" Mitchie was giggling. "'We regret we're unable to save the world since Julie has detention.'" Chloe was little better. 

"Why don't you come along as well, Mr. Black?"

And that had been pretty much the last anyone had seen of Sirius for the day. Two weeks later, on Valentine's Day, the comparison of the mission to Vietnam still bothered Severus.

"Dear?"

"Yes?"

"I still don't want them going."

"Nobody does. Judy's been outdoing Myrtle lately with her crying in lavatories, and I've never seen Mrs.-Narcissa look so pensive."

"I expect she's probably just as worried that Julie and Draco will crack up into laughter or start arguing than something might –well, go wrong."

"What is _with_ those two? If they aren't about to rend each other limb from limb, they're kissing under mistletoe to mess with us."

"Have you ever considered the idea of Julie's maybe thinking of Draco as an annoying older stepbrother?"

"Severus, I've known people with annoying older stepbrothers. You don't kiss them."

"Even to mess with their parents' minds?"

"No, I'm starting to suspect Julie fancies him."

_"WHAT?"_ Severus was suddenly a combination of furious and disbelieving. "But…but Draco's blond!"

"I thought that we had established that," Hermione remarked, for the moment too amused by Severus' genuinely funny expression to really be serious. 

"I mean, Julie's always going on about dark-haired ones with Michelle and Chloe, like that what's-his-name in the leather pants?"

"Jim Morrison?" 

"Yes, him."

"He's been dead since the early seventies."

"Oh. Good." That was one less male Severus had to worry about. "I mean, she just doesn't seem like the kind who'd be able to _put up _with Draco, let alone _like_ him."

"Well, he's certainly too patrician for my tastes. But have you noticed how much more -well, _normal_ he's been getting since the mission rehearsals started?"

"How do you mean, normal?"

"He's ceased to remind me of a Roman emperor, to start. I mean, ten years ago he wouldn't even have held a conversation with Mitchie and now look how he is."

"Ten years ago, Michelle was a five-year-old. Are you forgetting he was born before you were, dear?"

"I'm not saying Julie likes him, just that I suspect."

"Couldn't you suspect someone –well, someone younger?"

"Matt Flint."

"Merlin's flaming hemorrhoids!"

"Severus!"

"If that little bastard so much as kissed my daughter I'd have him fed to Weasley's dragons in Romania and her sent to a wizarding convent in Italy!…why are you laughing?"

"The image of Julie and Michelle in a convent, dear." 

Actually, it was nervous laughter and Severus could tell the difference.

"Seriously, Hermione, what's happened?"

"Put a Calming Charm on yourself first," she instructed. "Alright, Lyff Grudgett was giving Jen trouble in the halls while she was walking to class with the girls. Michelle lost her temper and went wolfish for awhile-"

"Good!"

"And then Flint showed up. He put the Body-Bind or something like that on Grudgett and then talked to Jen and Julie for awhile. According to Jen and Mitchie he used …a Quarnificatus spell on Julie."

"Gods!" Severus mumbled. "Why didn't she tell you?"

This was the kind of thing he had to deal with oftener than he liked in Slytherin. Quarnificatus had been nearly classified as an Unforgivable seventeen times throughout history, the acts always being voted down due to the spell's popularity on a consensual basis. It was easy enough in theory for a first-year to master, but with enough expertise it could be heightened to the point where it would knock the victim unconscious. Needless to add, it was usually the first spell taught in sex magic. It had all of the positive physical results of an encounter without there actually being one, which was why female victims of non-consensual castings were usually a mess. Guilt for liking it was usually as bad a symptom as the other feelings invoked, which mirrored those felt after sexual assault. In fact, the only female students he had ever seen who weren't in some stage or another of shock and emotional breakdown were old-family Slytherins, Jen Blodgett included. At the very least Julie had had her about to explain that it was alright-

"Julie's got no idea what it was the spell did to her. Jen Blodgett told her it was just a curse." Suddenly, Hermione realized just what the ex-Slytherin girl had protected her daughter from. "Michelle told me, and I asked Julie what happened. She's convinced Flint either messed up or her immunity prevented her feeling most of it."

"So she's perfectly ignorant of what that bastard tried to do?"

"Another fortunate side-effect of being brought up by Muggles."

"Didn't Michelle realize what Flint did?"

"Yes, she said Jen made her keep quiet."

"Merlin's ears, I'm glad that girl's out of Slytherin." Severus stood up calmly and gave his wife a hug. "There will be some drastic changes made shortly."

"What are you going to do, darling?" Hermione asked more than a little nervously. A mental image of Severus Cruciating Matt Flint was dancing through her mind. "Nothing illegal?"

"I'm going to reorganize the Slytherins' schedules and quarters."

********************************************************* 

"Red, definitely," Mitchie suggested.

She and her friends were all having a glorious time in her room, picking out dress robes to the glorious soundtrack of her inherited CD collection. At present, Jen's attire was the subject of discussion. "The black is too dour, the green is too Slyth-y, and I think the gray is a little short in the arms."

"Not to mention you look a bit like a ghost in it," Lucy observed bluntly.

"I've got some others," Jen reminded them helplessly. But it was too late. The part-veela was already drawing herself up to her full, if not very substantial height.

"Mitchie, get the music. I need …inspiration."

"Oh, gads, she's getting inspired!" Julie cautioned. "Jen, better get some robes on or she'll transform the clothes right off your back." The fifth-year cautiously obeyed, leaping behind the Yank's Chinese paper screen and changing hastily into the black robes. Meanwhile, Mitchie had seized one of her more wild soundtracks and now the speakers were thumping out 'Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend.'

Had it been the old Broadway recording or even the Marilyn Monroe film one from the late fifties, it was likely that Jen might have resembled herself just a little bit for the Valentine's Day dance. As it was, the Yank had gotten hold of the Nicole Kidman one from shortly before she and Julie had been born.

"Smoldering temptress," Chloe announced, unleashing the full force of her French creativity on the unfortunate Jen, who had just stepped out wearing her black robes. In seconds, they went from looking a bit like a misaligned Vicar of Dibley costume to the most violently corseted and incredibly fashionable thing any of the fifth-years had ever seen. 

It was red, it was embroidered, it was wild. Little gold lions raced upward from the hem to a bodice that barely deserved the name, and then returned to thread for a lacy finish down the very French Renaissance-looking elbow-length sleeves. Poor Jen felt as if she had suddenly been attacked by a renegade costume for 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' or worse. "Perfect," the first-year announced, blowing the smoke from the end of her wand like a gun and circling Jen to admire her handiwork.

"Mack will _die,"_ Hannah observed, awestruck.

"The Slyths 'ave got _reason_ to wet themselves," Julie grinned. "Lyff Grudgett will probably throw himself off the Astronomy Tower in a fit of remorseful stupidity."

"Chloe, you have outdone yourself."

"Applause for the artist!" Mitchie cried, and the fifth-years gave the not-very-humble-looking Chloe an ovation. But the first-year was still looking scrutinizingly at Jen.

"I like your hair," she observed, eying Jen's black tresses oddly.

"Er-thank you-"

"Mind if I change it?"

And before Jen could so much as nod or protest, Chloe had recolored and highlighted her hair from cold raven black to an incredibly becoming vague burgundy. While it wasn't nearly as red as the Weasleys' or even Mitchie's charred-cherry locks, it was a dramatic enough change to make Jen squeak in surprise when she saw the mirror.

"I- ...-er, what…I –you," she gasped, uncertain as to what in heavens' name the younger girl had done. "I'm…different."

"To say zhe least," Chloe observed. "Now zhat you're beautiful, I'd better fix the travesty running the stereo."

"Hey!" Mitchie protested.

"Seriously, Jen, you look great," Julie complimented. "You look like the portrait of Aphrodite near the Potions room."

"Chloe!" Hannah exclaimed, surprised. "You cribbed that?"

"I did not crib zhat…I borrowed a few ideas." Chloe smiled mysteriously and held up the book of Lautrec's paintings. 

And suddenly Jen found she loved the outfit.

"As for zhis, zhough," Chloe caught hold of the scruff of Mitchie's school robes, "you need to get changed into somezhing I can fix."

"You don't have to refer to me as an inanimate object," the American said quietly, just a little offended, as she ducked behind the screen.

"Without fashion, we are all inanimate," Chloe announced in her superior way. "Blue, I think."

Within ten minutes, Mitchie's unfortunately too-small set of greenish-teal robes became resplendent blue ones in the exact shade of her eyes that fit as flawlessly as Jen's and made her hair look redder than ever. Before Chloe could 'fix' her hair, however, she ducked into her bathroom and emerged with her wild bushy mane turned into beautifully elegant curls.

_"Pour notre dame,_ she actually knows how to fix 'er 'air," Chloe remarked, pretending to almost faint from the surprise. 

"I just got it wet and scrunched it a bit while I dryed it," Mitchie explained.

"A wolfy thing?" Lucy asked.

"No, a part-Irish thing." Mitchie smiled. "One of my better inherited double-recessive traits."

"You next, Hannah," Julie prompted. "Chloe, work your magic."

Hannah and Lucy both wound up looking incredibly good, of course, with contrasting colors and very similar robe designs since they were going with Tom and Tim. As soon as they had finished chattering and thanking Chloe and going on and on about how perfect their dress robes were, Lucy turned on Julie, who looked positively incongruous in her tight flares and patch shirt.

"What are you going to wear, Julie?" 

"Er…whatever Chloe decides I'll look good in?" she hedged.

"Well, are you going to try and match your date or just trust our Duchess of Fashion?" Hannah asked politely. 

"Yeah, you haven't told us who you're going with yet!" 

"That's kind of because I don't have a date," Julie clarified, talking at hyperspeed. Of course, she would probably wind up dancing with her professor and secret boyfriend, but there was no way she could just bloody well walk in on his arm as if there was nothing wrong whatsoever with teacher-student relationships. She hadn't really been surprised when he hadn't asked her, though in a small way it was kind of a letdown.

"You? The unspoken goddess of Gryffindor?"

"Probably too scared of her dad to ask," Chloe covered.

"Well, Donaghan asked Mitchie, didn't he?" Lucy pointed out, but the Yank was quick to contradict her.

"No, he didn't."

"But you're going with-"

"I asked him, silly," Mitchie explained, as if this were common practice. Lucy looked at her as if she'd just announced her intention to parade the streets of London as a suffragette. "What? It's perfectly usual where I come from."

(Actually it wasn't, but Mitchie felt more of a need to help Julie keep her secret than to accurately represent her country.)

"Right on, sister," Hannah complimented. "I asked Tim as well."

"I think violet for our dear Starcatcher," Chloe observed. Ten minutes had Julie in what slightly resembled her threatening Dark Lady getup, which Chloe had also designed, but with red-violet accents amid the deep blue-violet making her look a little less evil but more grown-up than she usually looked. Hannah, amazed, turned to the French girl with an impressed smile.

"My grandfather once told me all a man needs in life is a good doctor, a forgiving rabbi, and a clever accountant. I think all a woman needs is a smart designer and a stereo."

************************************************** 

Remus Lupin and Donaghan were having another talk when Professor Snape appeared.

"Severus," the elder werewolf greeted. "What would you say are the symptoms of true love?"

"You always know how to open a conversation, Remus," the professor remarked acidly. "Who needs the advice –McPhersen!" 

This was really not the professor's day. If it wasn't the suspicion of his biological daughter's having inherited one of her mother's more disconcerting tastes in men, it was his foster-daughter's boyfriend thinking he was in love with her. Never mind that this was the second girl Donaghan had fancied strongly in the space of five months; the second daughter of his as well.

"I'm not sayin' I _am_ desper'tely in love wi' Mitch, but I suspect I _migh' _be," the Scot explained. "I mean, las' time I thought I loved someone, I' turned out I jus' liked her a great lot an' she didn' really need me all that much at all."

"I suggested he try to imagine living without her," Lupin added.

"A wise idea. You may also wish to try knowing the girl for more than four months."

"The first time I talked ter' Mitch, I wanted to be around 'er forever."

"Well, you do realize you have fewer options as to just what you can and cannot do in dating now," Lupin reminded. "We mate for life, and that's not something you want to get into at eighteen and sixteen."

"Fifteen," Donaghan recalled. "She's born in June."

"Even worse. You'd do well to hold of on the l-word for now, because even if you are ready to commit to something, I sincerely doubt Michelle is."

"I sincerely doubt whether Michelle will ever be serious enough for ten minutes to discuss commitment," Snape observed dryly.

"So she's a bit on the flighty side," Lupin defended airily. "Just because you prefer the more scathingly intelligent doesn't mean the funny ones aren't nice, too."

"Are y' callin' 'er stupid?" Donaghan asked suspiciously.

"No, Donaghan, especially since Michelle is one of the most blatantly clever females I've met in years, despite being too conciliatory to make that fact obvious. I wished to point out to Professor Snape that the characters of his wife and your girlfriend are a bit far from similar. It can therefore be inferred you have different tastes."

"Come again?" the Scot asked, more than a bit confused.

"What Remus is saying is that you and I admire different qualities in women, which causes me to wonder at his dear love of stating the obvious."

"Draco, I was wondering where you were," Remus hailed the blond professor, who had actually been looking for Severus. "I have the necessary information about she whom we previously discussed," he explained, handing Malfoy some parchments and surreptitiously indicating Donaghan did not yet know about the mission. "We were just discussing the symptoms of love, care to join us?"

"Er- alright," Draco stammered. "I suppose you feel slightly light-headed when you're in love, and it gets harder to see your lady's flaws, assuming, of course, that she has any."  
"Mitchie doesn't."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, McPhersen, she can be absolutely insufferable when she wants to be. All women can."

"I'd been blaming genetics for your daughter's abusing me," Draco sighed. "And you mean to tell me they're _all_ like that?"

"I like Julie, don' get me wrong, but she does seem just a wee bit hell-bent on sendin' y' ter' St. Mungo's."

"Now, now, I'm sure she'll grow out of it," Remus pacified.

"I haven't," Snape remarked, casting suspicious glances at Draco occasionally. 

"But at least you don't twirl your hair while you're reading."

For some reason the werewolves found that funny.

"I'm not really surprised that you and Julie don't get on that well. You and Hermione hated each other for years and there's not much difference in the way they think." Remus smiled. "Except, of course, that Hermione never thought to bribe Mrs. Norris with tuna and got Minerva instead."

"And Julie never attempted a double schedule."

"Only because her mother forbade her to. They are an awful lot alike, aren't they, Draco?"

"More than I care to put up with sometimes, Severus. She's a sprightly little criminal, though, if nothing else, and she's fun to have a really good noisy fight with."

"Yeh like fightin' wi' girls, per'fessor?"

"Don't you ever just want to have an argument for the sheer fun of doing it?"

"Mitch would never jus' start an argument for fun," Donaghan remarked loyally. 

"Funny, she did just that in my class yesterday."

"Speaking of, how are you liking Charms classes, Draco?" Remus inquired.

"Well, the first-year Gryffindors are a nightmare from hell with the Slytherins. The fifth-and sixth-years are quite a bit easier than those little ones."

"My class ar'right?" Donaghan asked hopefully.

"Yes, I like your group. Your class doesn't demand to learn half the glamourie spells the girls always seem after, probably because there's only three girls in the lot…What are you doing after you graduate?"

"I wanted ter' write a new textbook, actur'lly," the Scot announced. "Hist'ry of Magic's my fav'rite subject, even if per'fessor Binns is a bit on the dull side sometimes."

"He's a tearing bore and has been since I was in school." 

"Thank you for that positively stirring show of anarchy, Remus."

"Don't mention it."

"Actually, McPhersen, if you're interested in history, why don't you compile a comparative text with both Muggle and wizarding events on one timeline?" Snape relished the look of fascinated inspiration that lit up the young werewolf's eyes. "Binns told the girls last week that the Internet was a direct result of the bubonic plague." 

"Have any of you ever had the chance to try that thing, by the way?" Draco inquired. "It kind of makes owl post look bad, tricky as it is to use a rat."

"D'you mean a mouse, per'fessor?"

"Whatever. Why they call it either one is quite beyond me."

"I trust you're going to put in an appearance at the dance tonight, Remus?"

"I suppose I could. Something tells me watching your daughter and Draco fight is worth dressing up."

"About that!" Severus turned on the blond professor. "I would appreciate it if there were a few less outward spats between you two…Slytherins are beginning to suspect the inappropriate."

"I don't blame them," Draco said, shocking Donaghan nearly into next week and convulsing Remus into silent giggles. "Julie's wonderful and if it wasn't for the obvious difference in our ages, I believe I might get myself poisoned by Severus quite readily."

"Per'fessor, I'm sorry ter' hear you na' longer wish ter' live," Donaghan pointed out. "'Ave y' forgotten 'e's after bein' just a bit ter' y're left, y'kna?"

"I find your candor appreciable, Draco, but that is decidedly not funny."

"Well, don' worry, per'fessor, it's not like Julie'd really give 'im th' time o'day." Everyone looked at the Scottish teenager in surprise. "'E's blond."

"And wizard-born, and Slytherin," Snape pointed out.

"You forgot wealthy," Draco agreed in frustration. "Honestly, she's so dratted resentful of anyone with money-"

"I think what you're mistaking for resentment is actually self-sufficiency, a disturbing little stubbornness she picked up in the Muggles' care."

"I can understand why you would be attracted to her," Lupin observed.

"Gods, not you too!"

"No, hear me out. Julie's intelligent beyond her years, and Draco loves a good argument or debate. She's fiercely stubborn, well, so is he, and they're both talented wizards. I mean, who's to say? In ten-odd years, who's to say, they may wind up dating."

There was a horrified silence.

"Remind me why I haven't killed you?" Severus demanded.

************************************************************* 

"Why me?" Lyff Grudgett demanded of the carved stone gargoyle in the Slytherin boys' lavatory. 

"I don't need to mention whom I suspect," Matius Flint observed. "You have the correct potion, I presume?"

"The Muggle I bought it from said it would work."

"What's the proof?"

"Ninety, I think. What's proof?"

"Alcohol content. It'll turn the Gryffindor girls into flaming nymphomaniacs by ten."

"Just where did you read about this vodka stuff anyway?"

"Let's just say I've used it on occasion to impress females."

"Like who?"

"Well, instead of beating a girl for studying Muggle literature, I simply suggest trying a few concoctions she's been curious about, like absinthe, for example. Works wonders on Blodgetts, you know." Flint's sidekick looked at him in abject betrayal. "You really don't appreciate what you've lost, do you? The legs on her…"

Lyff was steaming by that point, but Flint knew it wasn't aimed at him. Perfect. His temper always got the better of him, and if all went correctly, he'd be expelled from the dance shortly after spiking the punch at a certain select table. Sometimes this was easier than he thought. 

It was true, though, what he had said, except Jen was only a step in a greater plan.

************************************************************ 

Half an hour before the dance began, the Gryffindor fifth-year girls put the finishing touches on their resplendent attire and prepared to depart from the sanctuary of the Yank's garish room. They were to meet their dates just outside the Great Hall.

"Before we go," Mitchie announced a bit mischievously. "I think it would be well to preordain our after-party spots of choice, so we don't have a repeat performance of what occurred in the supplies closet over New Year's." Hannah and Lucy blushed.

Tom and Tim had unfortunately, escaped with their dates to the same secluded location, an anecdote which seemed destined to live on in Gryffindor myth and song. Mitchie, ever the artist, produced a map of the school's better corners and closets and deserted rooms, all carefully numbered for easy reference, complete with the usual routes of Filch and Professor Snape drawn in. 

"Dibs on twenty."

"I'll take four."

"Fifteen."

"Feeling a bit ambitious, eh, Chloe?"

"Shut up, Rover."

"I won't need one."

"Just in case, though, Jen?"

"Alright, nineteen."

"And I've got seventeen. Julie?"

"No date."

"Still, in case you pick one up?"

"Twenty-three."

"Excellent. Now that that's taken care of," Mitchie brought forth a bottle of something that was decidedly not thorn soda or butterbeer. "A toast."

"This is rather illegal, you know that, Yank?"

"Calm down, it's really the non-alcoholic kind. It's all in presentation."

"To closet space," Chloe announced.

"To good colors," Hannah added.

"To dishy guys," Lucy chipped in.

"To friends," Jen and Julie added in unison, exchanging grins of amusement.

"To Diureserum!"

And with that, the girls raised their mismatched glasses, just before a truly enchanting evening began.

******************************************************** 

A/N: Smut has been delayed due to lack of research material. Fifty-Two promises to be more well-stocked and humorous, featuring public semi-intoxication, the Seventeen Uses of Broom Closets, and more than three professors getting caught snogging.

-J. McN.


	52. Don't Let It Show

Chapter Fifty-Two: Don't Let It Show

"Without truth, there is no trust. Without trust, there is no love! And jealousy, yes, jealousy, will drive you…mad!"  
            -Jacek Koman (The Narcoleptic Argentinean.)

"Where are they?" Snape inquired of nobody in particular. 

"I find that the longer one lets women get dressed, sir, the better they usually tend to look," Aldous observed.

"An' if I know Mitch an' Chloe, they'll look splendid."

"What do you suppose the Slytherins and Gryffindors will do to each other this year?" Malfoy wondered. "Remember my seventh year, when-" He succumbed to giggles at the memory, whilst Ron looked just a little bit less chipper.

"It wasn't quite that funny from the receiving end, you know. And we did get you lot back later."

"True. Your graduation prank was much cleverer."

"Yours did sort of cheer us up a bit, though. And of course, there was what happened the next day." Ron smiled and thumped Draco on the shoulder, as the first source of their peace was his best friend's return. Lupin was surprised indeed to see them getting along.

"The Apocalypse wouldn't by any chance be at hand, gentlemen?"

"Only setting a good example for the boys, Remus," Severus explained, gesturing to the little knot of awaiting Gryffindors. "They'll start fighting as soon as the girls arrive."

"Naw, I've finally gotten used to the pureblood fop."

"And I've taken rather a liking to the redheaded beggar."

Donaghan and Aldous laughed heartily and Lupin smiled his approval. Just then, an idea frolicked into Severus' mind.

"Donaghan, do you happen to know who asked Julia to the dance?"

"Er- no, sir, I'm really not sure. Sorry."

"I believe Alexei Malgryevic and one or two Ravenclaws whose names escape me did ask her, sir, but according to Chloe she hasn't any specific escort."

"As I feared. Draco, would you keep an eye on her? Make sure she doesn't drink anything that's been past the Slytherins, all of that? Do you mind?"

"Actually, I was planning to do something like that, since I couldn't get a date myself. Firehead here had already asked Judy Parkington, and I didn't even want to try Madam Pomfrey."

"Oh, good. I'm starting to worry about her. She seems nervous about –well, you know."

"If it makes you feel any better, sir, Chloe's almost as bad. I'm hoping the dance will cheer tham up a bit." The professors looked at Aldous in surprise, having had no idea he could keep a secret like that. He smiled and gave them a look to indicate Donaghan was still oblivious. 

"Professor, d'you know whether tex'books need illustrated or not ter' be published?"

"I find that illustrated versions are more educational, McPhersen, especially history volumes, but it's not considered totally necessary."

"I was wond'rin, on account of I can't draw ter' save m'life. Mitchie can, though, pretty well, too." With a nervous smile, Donaghan produced from his pocket a clever if slightly mean little caricature of the entire teachers' table. Snape gave alternately the picture and the Scot disdainful and finally lightly amused looks, before handing it to Lupin, who positively howled. Draco studied the picture with an uncharacteristically curious look, adjusting his hair as he handed it to Ron. The Auror could scarcely restrain what sounded remarkably like a snort. Lupin turned with a cheerful smile to the Head of Slytherin House.

"I was completely unaware of just how much you can be made to resemble a crow, Severus. You didn't by any chance give the Yank detention recently?" 

"Just the four in the past five days. Her spelling's atrocious to the point of hilarity."

"Come on, sir, she's not bleedin' from England! Y'know 'Mericans tend ter' spell differently."

"I don't believe they switch the letters 'd' and 'b' or 'f' and 'e,' McPhersen. I'm sure it's merely moderate carelessness caused by writing too fast."

The fact that it routinely took Mitchie twice the time it took Julie and Jen to finish their homework was not mentioned, for at that moment, a positive inundation of beautiful females descended the stair. Not a single jaw among the males failed to bounce on the stone floor from the sight.

Hermione had succeeded in finding Judy some more-than-suitable dress robes in a stunning soft emerald color that made her eyes look wonderful. She ran to hug Ron, who for some reason had completely lost the ability of coherent speech. Lately, as the mission's departure time grew nearer, Judy had become progressively more emotional and clingy whenever Ron was around, and tonight was no exception. She was kissing him quite thoroughly, and had it not been for a resounding 'Ahem,' from Professor Snape a minute later, they might not even have made it into the Great Hall.

It had taken a tap on the shoulder from Lupin, however, to get Severus into a position of authority after his wife arrived. There was something about light, shimmering blue that never failed to make his heart jump when he saw her in it, and the new dress robes had a wonderfully suitable fur collar that set off her cinnamon eyes beautifully. She descended the stair like a queen or goddess, ever so gracefully, and gently took her Severus' hand just before a brief, but fully lovely kiss. 

Aldous and Chloe behaved similarly, for all they were smaller, and only Draco, Lupin, and Donaghan were left without ladies as Tom and Tim met their girlfriends. 

"Er- Hannah?" Donaghan asked. "Have y' seen-?"

"Oh, yes. Mitchie's coming. She and Julie had this mad idea…well, you'll see."

Donaghan and Draco gave each other confused looks, and then shrugged as all but Lupin went on into the Great Hall.

********************************************************** 

"No consideration! Heartless, the lot of you, picking on me!"

"Oh, come on! We honestly do think you ought to come."

"Yes, the entire school's going to be there."

"The entire school just loves to pick on me!"

"Really, no they don't, Myrtle," Mitchie pressed. "I bet guys never come in the girl's bathroom."

"N-no, they d-don't…I'll never get a d-date because I'm d-dead!"

"Oh, that's a load of rot, Myrtle, you can dance with Sir Nicholas and Professor Binns and probably even Peeves."

"I expect my boyfriend's grandfather may be by as well," Mitchie suggested. "He's a really nice Scottish ghost, wears a kilt."

"Y-you're inconsiderate, you know that, talking about boyfriends when I n-never h-had one!"

"Whyever not, though, Myrtle? You're nice-looking."

"I g-got asked to g-go by a R-ravenc-claw once…but then he said he was joking, he wouldn't take a f-f-foureyes-" Myrtle again burst into tears and Mitchie lost her temper, smacking the ghost solidly through the face. The effort was a bit much and the werewolf landed on her side on the slippery floor with a dull thud. Myrtle came the closest then Julie had ever seen her to a laugh. 

"See, Myr', at least you aren't a clumsy American." 

"Yeah!" Mitchie agreed, suddenly laughing as she realized she'd insulted herself. Myrtle finally gave them a wan smile. "An' specs have turned right fashionable lately. See, I've got 'em. Yours aren't nearly so big as mine."

"Y-you honestly w-want me t-to c-come?"

"Yes, Myrtle, we do, but only if you stop crying."

"I h-haven't g-got-"

"Anything to wear? But we've handled that. Chloe taught me the spell 'specially so you could come." Julie turned her wand on the still sniffling ghost and used Madame Delacour-Davies' spell. It was a bit like a translucent Cinderella effect, as Myrtle's damp-looking school robes became beautiful see-through gray dress ones. 

"You look splendid!" Mitchie exclaimed. "Look in the mirror, Myr'." The teary-eyed ghost did.

"Wh-wh-why are you two b-being so nice to me?" she asked partly in awe and partly in suspicion. Julie grinned cleverly and explained.

"Might as well be honest with y', Myr'. I owe you for lookin' out for my mum."

"Your mum?"

"Yeah, she an' her two friends cooked up some Polyjuice Potion here a good while ago, and hers went wrong. You stayed with her and I imagine you made her feel a bit better."

"You're her daughter?" Myrtle asked in awe. "I heard she married her professor, little Sevvie Snape."

"Tha's Dad, alright," Julie agreed. Myrtle actually grinned mischievously at her.

"Did you know he once got the doors confused in his first year? He was crying because somebody'd been teasing him and we would have had such fun together if 'Cissa Armfeldt hadn't come in and found him there."

"Was she his girlfriend?"

"No, she was a sixth-year who liked to take care of him. One time her boyfriend tried to kiss her in here and I frightened him away, calling him 'Lucy'."

"Lucius Malfoy?" Mitchie inquired.

"That's him, alright. I heard they got married."

"Myrtle, do you suppose you could keep a secret?" Julie asked. The ghost smiled and nodded eagerly and Julie whispered in her ear. "Her son Draco's a professor here and I think he's cute."

"Wow, you're just like your mum…?"

"Julie. Some kids call me Starcatcher."

"And I'm Michelle Tyler, everyone calls me Mitch."

"I never had a good nickname like that, just M-moaning-"

"Oh, don't worry, we aren't goin' to call you that. It's too alliterative."

"How about 'Myr' for short? Mine's really 'Julia'."

"I've never had a nice nickname."

"Sometimes the kids at school used to call me Mitchie the Collie. I'm a werewolf, you know." Mitchie showed the ghost her star mark.

"And I got this scar just a bit after I was born."

"I have a scar on my finger where I picked up a broken vial in Potions class," Myrtle offered, showing them her hand. 

"Nice one."

"We're going to be late, we should get going."

"Wait!" Both fifth-years turned and looked at Myrtle. "I'm scared."

"Aw, come on! You look so different, I bet nobody even recognizes you!"

"It'll be like Cinderella, except you get to dance with everybody, not just the prince."

"Oh...alright."

************************************************************** 

"Mitch!" Donaghan cried, seeing his girlfriend a few moments later. "Where were y', love?"

"We've brought our friend Myr' along to the ball. Myr, this is Donaghan."

"Lovely ter' meet yeh, miss." Donaghan bowed acceptably, making Myrtle blush. "May I 'ave the firs' dance, if y'aren' busy?"

"Wh-why, thank you!" 

Mitchie gave Donaghan a radiant grin from behind her ghostly 'friend.' Draco looked quizzically at Julie, impressed by the clever kindness of she and the Yank. Remus Lupin also greeted the ghost.

"Why, Myrtle, I haven't seen you in years! You look wonderful!"

"Remus?" she asked. "I remember when you were just twelve years old! You're so…tall."

"Not too tall, I hope. You will dance with me after Donaghan, I trust?"

Myrtle, overjoyed if slightly suspicious, mumbled her thanks and Julie whispered something to the effect of 'told you so' in her ear.

A few minutes later, Myrtle, Donaghan, Mitchie, Julie, and Malfoy were all seated at a table with mostly other Gryffindors. Julie picked up her glass to drink and suddenly made a bizarre face.

"Vodka in this," she announced to the others. Mitchie, however, was whispering something in Donaghan's ear and didn't hear this news. Jen leaned over toward Julie behind Mack, who was seated between them, and voiced her suspicion of the Slytherins.

"Most likely," Julie agreed. 

"Will vodka make you sick?" Mack inquired.

"No, just wildly, humorously drunk," Jen explained. 

"Makes your tongue furry," Julie added.

"Oh. Jen, you look…" Mack was again gazing hopelessly at his date for the umpteenth time. "I barely recognized you when you came down."

"Chloe made my robes, you know," Jen told him.

"You look wonderful in them."

"I mean, I really had very little to do with it,"

"You seem so much better…are you happier here in Gryffindor?"

"Yes, MacAndrew," Jen smiled. He kissed her hand and put an arm gently on her shoulder part affectionately, part protectively, for Lyff Grudgett had appeared.

"Any of you lot seen Jen?" he asked, fuming. 

"Why, no, Grudgett," Julie observed patronizingly. "You, Mitch?"

"Why, no, Jules. How about you, Myrtle?"

"Not I."

"Donaghan?"

"Na, nowhere."

"Jen, have you seen Jen about anywhere?"

"Why, nowhere. I don't expect she's been here, Lyff." 

The outraged Slytherin suddenly realized that this stunning creature under Mack's arm was indeed his cousin, and in his blind fury, he lashed out at her. Malfoy spat out a curse at him quicker, however, and his fist detached itself seamlessly from his arm at the elbow and began flopping about on the table. Lyff shrieked like a woman or an elephant who has seen a mouse, and Mitchie, having just finished a gobletful of the spiked punch, applauded.

"Lovely, Malfoy! Il fait beau c'est magnifique!" Chloe stared at her as she picked up the wriggling arm, examined it as if it were a particularly funny sex toy, and offered it to Lyff fingers first. "Madam Pomfrey's over with Hagrid, why don't you have her fix it  back on for you?"

As Lyff took his arm, sniffling, and fled, Chloe gave the female werewolf an unfriendly look.

"Your French has almost worse grammar than your English."

Owls suddenly began deluging the Hall, dropping the contents of the slotted boxes almost into their addressees' plates. Myrtle immediately began to pout, knowing she would not have one, but to everyone's surprise, one landed by her plate.

"Open it, Myr!" Julie encouraged. Nervously, the ghost undid the envelope and read it aloud.

"'She's not so ugly as she was,  
And when she's not crying, as often she does,  
She's really a nice one, with beautiful eyes,  
And I only play jokes trying to make her smile.'"

"Peeves, I bet," Chloe whispered in Aldous' ear. "Read yours next, Julie."

"I've got two." Julie opened the smaller one first, blushed furiously, and put it aside. The second she read aloud, with a bit of a confused expression on her face at the abysmal misspellings:  
"'I like her for her way she flyed  
And how she keeps freinds by her sighed,  
She watches out for my freind Jen  
And elped me out in class again.' Alexei?"

"Definitely."

"You next, Jen."

"I've got two as well." Jen opened the first, which had a small green serpent drawn in the corner:  
"'She walks in darkness as the moon,  
And to my heart came she so soon,  
I fear she knows not what tempts minds of men,  
But I know well she will be by my side again.'"

"Grudgett?" Mack asked, as if offering to kill him for her.

"Nope, Lyff can hardly write, let alone make up rhymes." She opened the second, but did not read it aloud, and kissed Mack gently on the cheek.

Next, Donaghan opened his. There were no words in it, but the picture was fairly self-explanatory.

"D'y' kna' I love y', Mitch?"

"I had supected it, you did tell me once or twice…you do know I love you?"

"Y' really do, m'girl?"

Chloe's and Aldous' were both written in French, but judging by the way they behaved immediately after, the meanings were perfectly clear to both of them. Music was playing by then, and Peeves appeared in what for him was formal dress.

"Well, can I have this dance, Myrtle?" he asked, looking at his feet as he hovered. For a moment, Julie and Mitchie were afraid she'd take the opportunity for revenge, but she didn't, and the two started dancing a few feet above the floor.

*************************************************************** 

"Dance with me?"

"Of course, darling."

The gentle sounds of the band began to play, and two professors danced effortlessly around the floor of the Great Hall. In their rooms in the dungeon, a painting of Tobias Ragg was watching their sleeping baby son, and just across the room, their teenage daughter was engaged in an animated but not unfriendly argument with Malfoy, as usual.

"I don't suppose she likes him all that much in any more than a friendly way," Hermione observed. "They aren't even dancing yet."

"I think you're right, dear." Severus agreed, pulling her a bit closer. "Draco, I think, is starting to appreciate just how –advanced for her age she is. And Lupin's absolutely no help at all."

"What did he say?"

"He just made one of the more disturbing suggestions in a long career of annoying me. Apparently, 'in ten-odd years' time, who's to say? They may start dating.'"

"Tell me you didn't hex him badly, dear?"

"I'm only hoping Chloe and Michelle can keep a good eye on them in America. Jennifer as well."

"I don't think we have much to worry about for a while, though. Maybe in ten years you'll approve of it."

"He'd have to save your life a few more times for that," Severus remarked direly. "I mean, it's nothing personal, I just don't want anyone thinking he can…well, if she wants to get married at thirty-five…"

"Dear, my father said the same thing, as did my grandfather."

"They were Muggles, though, thank God."

"I mean, you're really a wonderful father, Sev." Hermione kissed him gently. "And just think! In twenty years' time you can worry about A.J.!"

"Incorrigible Gryffindor," he mumbled, kissing her again.

**************************************************************  

"Jen?" Mack asked, as they danced almost lazily around the floor.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering, what does the Slytherin Common Room look like?"

"Sort of like the Gryffindors', actually, only the walls have different tapestries and it's in green and silver instead of red and gold. There are also skulls of infants instead of glass paperweights."

_"What?"_

"I'm joking, silly."

"Oh." Mack smiled and brushed a bit of Jen's hair out of her face gently. "You seem so different now that you're out of there…remember that time we went out before?"

"Yes…I was rather funny about it, wasn't I?"

"You never did say…did you really want to go with me or was it just to offend Grudgett?"

"Mack, I liked you ever since we were little first-years on the train and you told be dirty jokes to keep me from being scared. When you asked me, my first impulse was to go with you." A mischeivous smile flitted across Jen's face. "Offending Lyff was just a lovely side effect."

"He didn't…hit you because of me?"

"It's not like he wouldn't have anyway. He'd failed an exam that day."

"Jen, why didn't you say something sooner? And still! He should be expelled for that."

"If you want to tell on him, go ahead. He's got enough about me to get me expelled as well, so I'm not really going to bother. He'll be gone by the end of the year anyway."

"I thought he was in your Care of Magical Creatures class."

"He failed it two years running, actually, is why. Lyff's strong enough and fairly decent on a broom, but not overly endowed by the brain fairy. If my uncle wasn't so desperate for the first heir, I sincerely doubt if he'd have adopted him."

"See, I would have never known Lyff was adopted. He looks just like his dad."

"That's because my uncle _is_ his dad. Dark Revel, Muggle girl, you know the tale."

"So you _are_ related, really?"

"Not by blood, no. I'm related to my uncle by marriage."

"I've lost track of which of my cousins are second and first, how do you keep track of all that?"

"Geneology and family trees are more important in Slytherin. So is race."

"I only know I'm Irish and English, maybe some others. If you don't mind me asking-?"

"I'm English and one-quarter Italian, mother's side."

"I was curious, because you said that whole thing about 'sacrificiamo la frateri de la bastia' when Jem came by."

"I didn't think anyone recognized that was Italian."

"At first I did think it was a spell actually…what _does_ it mean?" Jen blushed slightly and whispered in his ear. "Oh. You know more dirty jokes than me, I bet."

"Or at least more insults."

"Jen, I know you just got out of…well, you know, and if you don't want to get into something now, I understand…but…"

"What is it?" 

"I was sort of wondering…could I kiss you goodnight?"

The novelty of this was such that Jen had a hard time not laughing at Mack's gentle earnestness. Asking for a kiss…she was used to not even being asked for a shag.

"Of course, Mack. You can kiss me whenever you like."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Oh." Very nervously, Mack did so, brushing her lips for barely a second with his own. Jen smiled tolerantly and stroked the back of his neck before showing him her idea of kissing. It neatly reduced the Gryffindor's knees to what felt like strawberry gelatin and poor Mack found himself panting and holding tightly onto Jen's waist to keep from falling. 

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, just a bit –I've never been kissed that way." Mack kissed her gently again and they resumed dancing, unnoticed by the throng. "Fancy something to drink when the song's over?"

It ended that very moment. They moved back to the table, where Julie, Malfoy, and Lupin were happily discussing what sounded like Animagic. Jen was about to pick up her goblet when Draco stopped her.

"Somebody's spiked all our cups, you know."

"Really? The Yank's been drinking from hers all evening," Mack observed.

"Oh, no!" Lupin cried. "Why didn't somebody stop her?"

"She doesn't look drunk at all to me," Julie observed, indicating her friend, who seemed to be chatting with the band's roadie about a guitar he was tuning.

"Don't you know what happens when female werewolves are intoxicated?" Malfoy asked.

"They become clumsy and smell of alcohol?" Jen suggested.

"No…" Just then, a peculiar sound started from the stage, and a voice began singing:

"Jeremiah was a bullfrog-"

"That happens," Lupin explained with a sigh and a look of horror, covering his ears. The American had charmed the roadie into lending her the guitar and the band into backing her up. Actually, she wasn't all that bad.

"What's wrong with a sudden uncontrollable urge to sing?" Julie asked.

"Ever see what a veela does to guys?"

"Nope. Read about it, though."

"Drunk female werewolves are worse." Draco had his ears covered up as well. 

"Omigod, look at them," Jen observed, covering her ears on the side of caution. Just about every male in the room and a small number of females were positively riveted to the stage, where even the musicians' jaws were dropped at the sound of Mitchie's singing. Professor Snape, however, seemed unaffected and stalked right over to their table.

"Who got her drunk?"

"Somebody's spiked the entire table's cups."

"Merlin's sinus blockage! Couldn't you have –well, stopped her?" 

Malfoy and Lupin still had their ears plugged.

"Pardon?" 

"Gads, you bachelors! Julie, why don't you go short out the microphone or something?"

"At least you could let the song end, Dad."

"Whatever, just make sure she doesn't go wandering off alone."

"You got it." 

About a minute later, Mitchie and the band finished the Muggle song, she swung the guitar off, hanging it on the roadie like a human coatrack, and then rejoined Donaghan, who looked like he had just been given an entire house full of brooms. There was a small murmur of protest that she had stopped, and a few other students decided to try singing as well. Generally, the dance was uneventful after that, even if Malfoy and Julie did dance together twice, grinning contemptuously at Flint where he glowered in a corner.

At that moment he decided to make his move toward the second part of his plan. 

******************************************************************** 

"Be right back," Jen told her date, heading toward the girls' room. Once inside, she started furiously scratching the inside of her arm, a rather unladylike reaction to her strawberry allergy. It hadn't seemed polite to not eat chocolate-dipped strawberries when Mack seemed intent on hand-feeding her like an owlet. "Gar," she mumbled, stil scratching as a back passage opened and an old acquaintance slunk in from behind.

"Strawberries?" a surprisingly kind, if raspy voice inquired.

"What do you want, Flint?"

_"Aproxa cortizonus,"_ he said, curing the itchy welts with his wand. "Why don't you ever call me by my first name?"

"Because I don't like you. Haven't I made that point crystal clear?"

"Why don't you?" he asked, sounding unnaturally sad. 

"Oh, think about it, Matius! Maybe if you'd stopped Lyff or not cursed my friend with a Quarnificatus!"

"I did stop Lyff often enough, though, didn't I? It wasn't like I could tell him off in the middle of the common room."

"You could have gone to Snape when you found me bleeding in second year instead of teaching me to hide the marks and…" Jen couldn't quite bear to speak the memory aloud.

"Tell me you never liked me and I'll go away."

"I'm not the liar most Slytherins tend to be. I did like you. You were kind to me, quite often. But as kind as you seemed to be, you used me. You use everyone and I don't have time for you. So just leave me alone."

"You used me, though, didn't you?"

"Tell me someone who never used anybody else!"

"Look, Jen, Lyff's been threatening to beat up on Jem lately."

"What do I care? He seems to have forgotten we ever shared a room, let alone-"

"You still care. You always cared more than any girl I knew."

"So?"

"I'll protect him. I just want someone to come back to my room and talk. Jen, I miss you. Will you believe me?"

"Talk? You? Oh, sure."

"Well, if you don't want to talk, there are other alternatives."

"Flint, if you want a lay, go find some ignorant second-year."

"I've already got one, except now she lives in Gryffindor." Flint kissed Jen lightly on the neck. "I need you, Jen. Just an hour?"

"Why?"

Suddenly his contrite manner evaporated like a liquid disguise.

"Because if you don't, I'll let your cousin into Starcatcher's room tonight."  
Jen spun around, fire blazing in her eyes.

"You bastard."

"You will. I knew it." Flint kissed her harshly and she pulled away. "Just relax and er- enjoy the fun."

"You bastard," Jen repeated, her voice cracking. Flint opened the back passage and led her away even as she bit back tears. He had left her with no choice.

************************************************************************* 

Mack noticed Jen wasn't back, but assumed she was simply correcting her makeup or some female thing. After all, he had no sisters or female relatives besides his mum, and heaven knew what it took to maintain such beautiful appearances.

At half an hour, though, he wondered aloud where she had gotten to, not wanting to pry or offend her.

At forty-five minutes he finally got worried and asked Julie to check on her.

"No problem, Mack, why didn't you say something sooner?"

A few seconds after she had left, a knock sounded on the outside door of the Great Hall. Snape walked over and unobtrusively opened it. 

"Are you Ronald Weasley or Draco Malfoy?" the figure asked hurriedly. 

"No, my name is Professor Severus Snape. Who are you?"

"Oh, it's you! I'm Dennis Martin, from the American Aurory. The mission has to leave immediately, did you know?"

"What? We had no word of this!"

"There's been a bit of an emergency overseas. I have the warrant from President Feldman right here." Severus fairly tore it from his hand and read it.

"Damn!"

By then Draco had joined him at the door. Severus finished with the parchment and told him the news. He sighed in a combination of anger and resignation.

"I'll get them together, Severus. Best tell Minerva and Hermione."

********************************************************************* 

Flint had pretty much done everything he liked, and now Jen was back in the girls' room, concealing traces of tears. Julie opened the door and called her name.

"Jen?"

"Right here,"Jen announced, feigning cheerfulness. "What's up?"

"You've been missing an hour. Anything wrong?"

"Naw, just a bit allergic to strawberries."

"Oh, well I know the feeling! Fixed all the itchy spots?"

"Yeah. Is Mack angry?"

"Naw, just a bit worried. Come on."

They stepped outside and ran directly into Malfoy.

"We're leaving tonight. Go get your things together."

"What?"

"De Diablo's just wreaked all kinds of havoc in America. We've got to go early. There's an Auror here to get us."

"Damnation!"

"I'd better go try and explain to Mack," Jen remarked, her heart secretly leaping as she realized it would be at least a month without Slytherins.

"I've no idea where Mitch and Donaghan have gone. Have you seen Chloe?"

"I'm here," the little first-year squeaked. 

"What's the matter, Chloe? You look as if you'd seen a ghost," Malfoy observed gently.

"My eyes have been scarred," she announced melodramatically. "I got the numbers confused and well…"

"Teachers kissing?" Julie asked sympathetically.

"One of them was, sort of." Chloe stood up on tiptoe and whispered in her friend's ear. Julie's eyes widened and for a minute neither girl could say anything. Then Julie abruptly turned to Malfoy in disbelief.

"The Headmistress and Minister Dumbledore?"

"Oh, it was only them? I thought everybody knew."

"They were _kissing," _Chloe announced direly.

"What's so wrong with that?" Draco asked.

"They're just so…" the French girl struggled for a word. Draco patted her on the shoulder older-brotherly.

"Gives whole new meaning to antique romance, doesn't it?" 

Julie considered that for a moment and frowned.

"Remind me never to become old. I'm far too fond of kissing." 

********************************************************************* 


	53. Departure

A/N: Honestly, I had no idea this would get so long. Oh, well. Just to reassure you all that I do read reviews, I'm sorry if Jen's offending anyone. This is just what has to happen to get to the end, you know? Because eventually this _does_ have to end. I mean, there's only so much a guitarist's fingertips can take. True, my beta reader _has_ read the first chapter of the sequel…note to self, get ice for paws.

Chapter Fifty-Three: Departure

"Set sail before the sun, feel the warmth that's just begun. Share each and every dream. They belong to everyone…"  
                        -Ray Thomas, 'For My Lady.'

"What d'y' mean, y're leavin' ter'night?"

"I mean I have to go back to America for a while. Professor Snape –no, better ask Professor Granger- can explain it all to you."

"Does Julie know?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she's going, too."

Donaghan was shocked. She was going home and leaving him without a thought.

"Mitch! Why didn' y' tell me sooner y' couldn' stay tha' long?"

"Oh, no, dear, I'll be back. I was _going_ to tell you tonight we'd be leaving on the tenth next month, but they need us early. I'm sorry." 

She was so funny when she was ticked off, Donaghan thought. It was obviously her country's fault she had to leave. He wondered what she had to do and how long she'd be, but there wasn't time for questions when he had more to tell her.

"Be careful, m'love," he whispered, pulling her close.

"I will."

"Write ter' me, okay?" Mitchie frowned slightly and Donaghan kissed her on the forehead. "Or draw. I can understand y're pictures."

The American suddenly leaned forward and kissed the Scot long and well. 

"I don't want to leave you," she whispered, fighting back tears. 

"Sh, i's okay, m'girl." Donaghan reached into his pocket and took Mitchie's right hand in his left. "I was wond'rin', Michelle, if'n'y' could see y're way t' stayin' with me after school ends, maybe?"

"Do you mean even after you graduate?" she inquired, not quite grasping what he meant.

"I mean, even after y'graduate."

Suddenly the import of what he was asking hit poor Mitch like a brick to the head.

"Forever?"

"If y'd 'ave me."

Mitchie kissed him again.

"Alright."

Donaghan raised her hand to his lips, kissed it gently, and carefully slipped the ring from his pocket onto her finger.

"I love y', Mitch."

"I love you, too, Donaghan."

"Ahem," a voice cleared his throat behind them. It was Snape, naturally, who pointed to his watch and then left them alone, a mysteriously sympathetic look on his face.

************************************************************** 

"I'll be back soon, little guy," Julie whispered, patting her baby brother on the back as he slept. "Listen, I need you to take care of Mum and Dad. If they start getting lonely or nervous, I want you to be as cute as you can, alright? Keep them distracted."

"And if you could keep Donaghan busy, I'd like that, A.J."

"He's so little," Jen observed, gathered around the crib with Julie, Mitchie, and Chloe. 

"Oui, c'est mais petit," Chloe agreed, patting the little boy as well and giving him what sounded like her own instructions in French. Then she moved Monsieur Lapin, the stuffed bunny, closer to him and kissed the baby on the head. "Bonne nuit, Albus."

Quietly, the four girls stepped away from the crib toward the door.

"I don't like to leave my brother when he's so little," Julie said in a voice so sad it was barely audible. "I mean, what if something does happen? He won't even remember me."

"Yes, he will," Jen consoled. "Nothing's going to happen to you, I'll make sure of it."

"Still…" Julie had a strange look on her face. "Guys, you go on without me, I'll catch up." They obeyed and Julie turned back to the crib where her small brother slept.   
"Listen, God," she began, unsure as to how prayers really worked. "This is my brother Albus. I have to go to America, and I'd like it if you would watch over him." She waited a moment, looking toward the ceiling as if expecting an answer. She hadn't believed there even was a God since Cory died. "I'll try and like, pray more often, and –quit sinning and that, just take care of him …deal?"

An idea occurred to her just then. Opening her old backpack, she drew out her single favorite possession –her Quidditch gloves. Julie pulled on the left, effectively hiding her scar and giving her the usual feeling of near-invincibility. She took the other and placed it in her brother's crib. Even if she was a ghost, she reasoned, she'd come back for it.

"I'll see you later, A.J.," she whispered. Turning around with tears in her eyes, she was startled to see her mother there.

"I know everyone's already told you to be careful and don't worry," Hermione began. "I remember once your father had to leave Hogwarts to spy for Dumbledore, and what that was like."

"If you don't want me to go, Mum, I don't have to!"

"Julie, you know I don't want you to leave. I also know you would never let Michelle and Chloe go alone."

"You're right, Mum," Julie agreed. "I don't want you and Dad to worry, though."

"Julie, you're our daughter. As short a time as we've known you, we'd worry no matter where you were going or to do what." Hermione hugged her daughter, who was already almost as tall as she was. "You're so much like your father, you know. I don't think anything will go wrong."

"Hasn't it already?"

"No, this is just what happens sometimes when you're saving the world. Don't be afraid of what can happen, just depend on the people who are there to take care of you. I'd trust your uncle Ron to take you into hell and back, and Draco is one of the bravest men I've ever known. Michelle knows enough about America as you do about Muggle England, and Chloe's a lot smarter than she looks."

"Well I know that, at least."

"So you've got all these people looking out for you. Things will go alright."

"What about Jen, though, Mum? I'm not sure she really even wants to go."

"Well, I've got a sneaking suspicion you might wind up needing to take care of Jen instead of the other way around. She's had a lot of bad things happen to her lately, but she's absolutely bent on going along to help."

"It seems kind of mean to take Chloe away from Aldous, though, and Mitchie from Donaghan."

"Well, you're leaving someone behind as well, aren't you?"

Julie knew she couldn't keep hiding, couldn't lie to her mother now of all times.

"No, I'm not, actually…he's sort of…going, too."

Hermione stared in abject shock at what Julie was admitting to.

_"What?"_

"I like him, okay!" she whispered disconsolately. 

"He's older than I am, Julia! …Or close enough to it."

"I know…that's mostly the problem."

"Listen, Julie, you're sixteen years old. If you were twenty-six I could understand…well, not really _understand,_ but I'd put up with it better, not wanting to be hypocritical of course… –_what_ can you possibly see in him?"

"I don't know…he's so well-mannered and fun to fight with, and you have to admit he is rather nice to look at."

"That's about the only thing I could understand."

"I'm not really considering him as a mate you know, I just like spending time with him."

"I had figured that much. You do realize what your father would do if he knew you had a crush on Draco, of all people?"

"Do wizards _have_ convents?"

"Yes, in Italy."

"Well, then, I guess he'd better not find out."

The Granger-Snapes laughed gently before hugging again.

"It's almost time for you to go, dear. Be careful."

"Of course. I love you, Mum."

"I love you, too, dear. And while you're over there…?"

"Yes?"

"Be good. You know what I mean."

"Yes, Mummy. You won't tell Dad, will you?"

"I like you too much to have you sent to a convent in Italy."

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the door.

"Dad!" Julie ran over and hugged him. Snape held his daughter close, realizing with a bit of horror that she was going into the family business with a vengeance now; and that he had said goodbye to Hermione more than once the same way.

"Be careful."

"I will, Dad, don't worry."

"Oh, and I'll take care of your pets until you get back. What does the ferret eat?"

"Tibby the house-elf's been making ferret food for him, and he likes treats from the box in my nightstand drawer when he's good. If you absolutely have to use him as a test example in class, please don't make his fur fall out. Bald patches bother him."

"Of course, dear. Mind, I do expect you to owl at least every other day, unless the situation becomes too hazardous. If there are any problems with the American Aurory, write and I will ask Albus to see to its rectification immediately. If there is time I would appreciate if you would keep studying. Have Draco help the four of you if you need him."

"Okay, Dad."

"And should you feel the need to take a break or explore the Colonies, I would recommend you stay away from what Muggles call adult bookstores. They don't tend to stock anything interesting." Julie stifled a giggle and nodded. "In the event that you should require emergency transportation, the Americans have an equivalent to the Knight Bus, and for Merlin's sake, don't eat anything with eyes or the legs attached. God knows what kind of indigestion Cajun food would give. Do you know our vault number?"

"Vault number?" Julie asked in horror.

"No, dear, not that kind of vault. It's in case you need money, like…a PIN number."

"Oh. I don't think I'll need any-" 

Severus pressed a bit of parchment into her hand. 

"You will. I expect you to have a good time in the Colonies, after all, can't let Michelle take you without that happening. The usual rules apply, no drinking, no drugs, and no shagging Americans you meet in bars-"

" Severus!"

"Alright…well, be careful."

"Okay, Daddy. I love you."

Severus pulled his daughter close and gruffly kissed her on the forehead. Hermione hadn't seen him this nervous since A.J. was born. Considering his daughter was heading off into what amounted to the same thing he'd done years ago for Albus Dumbledore, the pride in his eyes was just as understandable as the nervousness.

*************************************************************** 

"Well?" Mitchie asked the other American as they walked away from Hogwarts towards the lake.

"Ship."

"Why?"

"Clouds."

"Damn."

Chloe looked at the two of them in some confusion. Apparently it was possible for Yanks to hold entire conversations in one-word jumps. The Auror, however, suddenly rolled up his sleeve, as did Mitchie, and the next thing anybody knew they were chatting like long-lost cousins. It was clearly a werewolf thing.

"Michelle," the Yank introduced herself.

"Dennis."

They shook hands and began to discuss what sounded like a Quidditch team animatedly. It was vaguely reassuring to the others to know that ordinary topics could still be talked about at a time like this. The girls and Aurors began to relax a bit.

"Julie? Mitch?" a voice called suddenly, and they turned around. It was Hagrid, holding a huge handkerchief and what looked like a fat parcel in the other hand. "They tol' me yeh've got ter' go ter' America ter'night. I baked these fer' yeh." The half-giant handed the Yank the knobby package, evidently full of the rock cakes she and few others liked. "If'n yeh get ter' see any o' them Concord Grape dragons, write me an owl."

Quite abruptly, all four of the girls, Jen with only a moment's hesitation, rushed over and hugged their animal-loving professor. The tallest of them barely reached mid-chest on him.

"I'll draw you pictures of all the animals we see," Mitchie promised. "If they let us we'll go to the zoo and see everything."

"Yeh be careful, too. I don' want yeh girls getting' lost or 'urt, now, d'yeh 'ear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll tell Claw where yeh're goin', on account of 'e'll miss yeh, girls."

"Give him an extra biscuit for me," Chloe suggested. 

"We'll be back soon."

And with a feeling of dread, Hagrid watched the small boats sail away across Hogwarts' lake.

*********************************************************** 

"How long will it take to get there?" Draco asked Dennis.

"We should see the coast by morning."

"Alright. I'll tell the girls to sleep."

"They've already found one of the cabins, Draco," Ron announced. "They're asleep, I believe."

"In one cabin? Aren't there four of them?" Dennis asked. 

"Looks like a lot of squirrels nesting, but I don't blame them. I don't suppose there's any heating on this boat?"

"Ship," Dennis protested indignantly. 

"Whatever. All I know is the girls have all built a nest on the double bed. Must have taken blankets from four cabins."

Even as Weasley negotiated with Dennis and then the captain about the cold, Draco's thoughts weredrawn back to the four sleeping girls, or more specifically, one of them. He had hoped to talk to her before she went to bed, if only to make sure she wasn't too uprooted by the hasty departure. He moved down a ladder to one of the lower decks, only to feel a light hand on his shoulder. She was waiting there in what looked like her father's pajamas under a coat with rather threadbare slippers. 

"The others are asleep."

"So Ron told us. All in one bed?"

"It's freezing, or haven't you noticed?"

"Must be lovely warm, though, with the four of you."

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep, though."

"Nervous?"

"Sort of. I already miss Hogwarts. It's like my first real home."

"Do you ever miss the orphanage?"

"Sometimes. But then I remember what I had there compared to what I've got now and then I don't. Did you miss England when you were overseas for the Auror Office?"

"Actually, the first time I felt the slightest scrap of patriotism was when I lost sight of the coast leaving for Belgium. See, there it is, England. Doesn't look that impressive from this angle."

"It's the only country I've ever lived in. Feels sort of weird to look at it as if it were far away."

"By now it is. But we'll be back soon." Draco put his arm around Julie and together they watched their country fade away into the night.

*************************************************************** 

Mitchie awoke the second a ray of sun crossed her face. She pulled her coat on over her pajamas, barely noticing Julie and Draco asleep in the armchair by the bed. Throwing open the doors caused light to wake up the others in the room, and with a few grumbles and French swearwords they got up and followed her.

There were icicles on the railing and frost on the deck, but the barefoot Yank didn't notice any of them. She was looking out at what looked like a fat whitish and green line shining in the sun.

"That isn't-?" Jen asked.

"Yep." Mitchie breathed in the sea air as if inhaling the smell of the entire continent. "America."

*************************************************************** 


	54. Deleted Scene from 52NC17

******************************************************************** "Be right back," Jen told her date, heading toward the girls' room. Once inside, she started furiously scratching the inside of her arm, a rather unladylike reaction to her strawberry allergy. It hadn't seemed polite to not eat chocolate-dipped strawberries when Mack seemed intent on hand-feeding her like an owlet. "Gar," she mumbled, stil scratching as a back passage opened and an old acquaintance slunk in from behind. "Strawberries?" a surprisingly kind, if raspy voice inquired. "What do you want, Flint?" "Aproxa cortizonus," he said, curing the itchy welts with his wand. "Why don't you ever call me by my first name?" "Because I don't like you. Haven't I made that point crystal clear?" "Why don't you?" he asked, sounding unnaturally sad. "Oh, think about it, Matius! Maybe if you'd stopped Lyff or not cursed my friend with a Quarnificatus!" "I did stop Lyff often enough, though, didn't I? It wasn't like I could tell him off in the middle t one, except now she lives in Gryffindor." Flint kissed Jen lightly on the neck. "I need you, Jen. Just an hour?" "Why?" Suddenly his contrite manner evaporated like a liquid disguise. "Because if you don't, I'll let your cousin into Starcatcher's room tonight."  
Jen spun around, fire blazing in her eyes. "You bastard." "You will. I knew it." Flint kissed her harshly and she pulled away. "Just relax and er- enjoy the fun." "You bastard," Jen repeated, her voice cracking. Flint opened the back passage and led her away even as she bit back tears. He had left her with no choice. ********************************************************************** Deleted Scene "Right over here," the raspy voice beckoned, gently guiding Jen with a hand at the small of her back. As soon as she was standing where he wanted her, Flint moved around from behind her, making no sound. "I believe you know the procedure." "Fine," she spat coldly, knowing too well how the hour would progress. First the clothes, and then… "Stop there," Matius instructed, lighting a candle at his bedside with his wand. It was the only light in the room. "I'll do the rest. Have the little French one tell you the meaning of _al hussarde_ sometime." "I don't need translation, Flint. I know your appetites full well." "Good," the Slytherin remarked with a cold, frightening laugh. The next thing Jen knew, he was removing the remainder of her clothes by hand, maddeningly slow and almost tenderly. She knew he was doing this to bother her. She had been hoping to just impale herself on him and get it done with, the way she could with some other guys, but Flint was always more interested in reactions. If there was anything she despised, it was bastards like him trying to get her off. She was protecting her friend, not having fun doing him! And she could have done a lot better without the voice. Flint sounded like the Yank scraping her nails down a high and a low guitar string simultaneously; rasping at two different pitch levels. It was forcing her into a state she would have rather avoided. Her face contorted into a scowl as Flint started stroking the bare skin on her side. She knew he knew she was incredibly sensitive there, and rather than give him the satisfaction of watching her writhe and beg for more the way those other sluts would, she tried her best to ignore the maddening caresses. Suddenly he stood up. "Like it?" he asked rhetorically in that scraping voice. Jen shivered as she noticed he was still taller and stronger enough than her to break her leg with a kick. After all, he had done that to Julie once. His beard had started growing in at an alarming rate recently, and he also seemed worlds stronger than he had been in, say, October. Flint bent slowly and drew his hands up the backs of her bare legs, making the shivers worse and more violent until he finally swept her off her feet literally. She gasped at the force and depth of the stabbing made her tremble fiercely in every limb. Still holding her in the closest possible embrace, Flint wrapped her shaking arms around his neck to keep her from falling. With his other hand, he also picked up his wand. After the Slytherin moved to sit on the bed, Jen felt the tip of his wand burn her bare skin on her back directly parallel to her heart. Quarnificatus did that sometimes of one wasn't wearing clothes. In the indefinable madness as he shot her with it again and again, her body outwitted her into riding him and twining her hands around his neck as they shook steadily. Dimly through the haze, she realized two things. First, she had forgotten the third dose of the anti-seizure potion and these twitches were petit mal, and second, Flint was wearing a thin chain around his neck. She had to find out what…so she began using a bit of the knowledge from those damn books Lyff made her read. The hypocrisy and guilt of enjoying this was maddening, but if she could find out that chain's purpose as well as protect Julie, well… He collapsed onto his back a few seconds afterward. Jen bent and kissed him hard and well, hating herself more than ever, and surreptitiously lifted the object on the chain out from beneath his robes. It was a Time-Turner. "Don't even think that I'm done with you," a voice whispered in her ear. It was another Flint, the necklace in question clutched in his hand. "Ready?" *************************************************************   


	55. Owls

Chapter 54: Owls

"And if you were to ask me about the meaning of my life, it kind of lost it's meaning on the day you went away. You know that when it comes to matters of the heart, I thought I had it covered, but it's tearing me apart. And I hope and pray, every day, I hope and pray it's you…"  
                  -Justin Hayward, _'Keys of the Kingdom'_, 1988

Dear Jules,  
                  Why didn't you tell us you were leaving? Lucy's making everyone's life a living hell saying she knew with her damn Arithmancy and Divination books and if you'd told us maybe she'd give me a moment's peace. Oh, and the Divination professor's going on leave until the start of next year. Lucy says it's psychic vibrations. Mack says she's knocked up. So we have this new one, an insect-looking witch who swept in like the wrath of God, dressed like a Muggle head shop exploded all over her. Gauzy fabrics, rattling jewelry, specs that make Mitch's look normal-sized, and this tragic expression like 'Oh, woe to you mortals who look upon my sacredness.' Tom and Tim shot pumpkin juice out their noses just seeing her. Her name's Trelawney and your dad threatened to smack her one if she so much as hinted at your impending death. Your mum pointed out that she's chronically wrong, though, so it would probably be best if she thinks you're all going to die. What are you lot doing anyways? 

Your mum's back to Potions class, by the way, keeps A.J. in a little pen beside her desk. Some Slytherins tried to give him raw mandrake root and Tim used the Gonizatius Curse on them. Professor Granger hugged him in front of everybody, burst into tears about how much she loved all of us and how she'd missed teaching and was all group-huggy until one of the Slytherins made a noise and she turned the three of them into ferrets. Hormonal much? Tell Jen her brother's more attractive as a furry animal, because really he is. Came out all shiny-black with a white spot down his chest. I asked if we could let them stay that way, but Professor McGonagall said no. I think she meant to yell at Professor Granger for doing that, but she was trying not to laugh too hard. 

Things are going quite well here, except for your being gone and Donaghan's letting little Kenny play Seeker. I think he's seriously dropped one, but Professor Longbottom's so proud we didn't try to talk him out of it. He spends all of his time either out on the pitch tutoring Kenny, writing owls to Mitch, and sighing a lot. If he wasn't so damn cute when he's doing it, I'd seriously consider slipping him a cheerfulness potion. Has my boyfriend been influencing me in bad ways, d'you think? 

Oh, well. Any longer and the owl will die from the size. Everyone in Gryffindor says hello, and despite missing you and the others an awful lot, everything's nice up here. How's the weather where you are, because it's snowing here. Tell Mitch and Chloe not to argue too much, and if you need a person to rant about Professor Pureblood to, I'm here. Professor Thomas isn't nearly as fun in Charms class, but then, he's not blond and a total dish. And there are so few that are. Sigh. Well, have fun doing whatever it is you're at.  
-Hannah.

P.S. Did you know that Muggle actor in the film we saw is gay? Lucy positively wept for two hours, going on about 'such a waste.' That girl needs to get laid.

************************************************************* 

Dear Julia, Michelle, Chloe, and Jennifer,

                  I suppose it would be entirely frivolous, not to mention redundant, of me to suggest that you take a night off and have fun for once, but it has come to my attention that Gilderoy Lockhart is having a book signing in -what's that little town the Yank comes from? Bother. Anyway, it might prove amusing to attend and observe the pontificating little-   
_(Several words crossed out.)_

-charlatan. I suggest to Michelle especially to inquire after the state of his own line of hair products, which I believe have been found useful only by the house-elf and goblin communities. I am of course, acting under the assumption that making incompetent people look their intellect is one of the forms of entertainment you find enjoyable. I would also suggest that while at the bookstore you acquire a reputable text on transmogrificatory potions and reversal spells, as the fifth-year class is woefully inadequate in those two areas. Studying for your final exams would, of course, be an idea so profoundly wise as to be listed in a book of the same.

Sincerely,

-Professor S. Snape.

**************************************************************** 

Dear Dad,

                  We enjoyed Mr. Lockhart's signing immensely, it was ever so kind of you to suggest attending it. However, given Mother's distaste for accounts of mortal humiliation of anybody but- oh, drat it. Mitch has already drawn a very lifelike picture of his changing expressions upon seeing us, answering (or attempting to answer) our questions, and finally attempting to run away through a horde of forty-some year-old ladies in housedresses. She does well in capturing abject terror, but I do think Jen's giving her colored pencils was one of the crueler acts of the century. I now have a quite splendid portrait of Uncle Ron being sick (the food here is creative, to say the least,) as well as a positively hideous picture of what happened when we let Chloe design the male Aurors' uniforms. I am considering a spandex phobia to avoid such travesties in the future. Drat the French sometimes.

There are a lot of very nice people here, including one dearly ancient man from the German Aurorscheidt who insists on calling Chloe 'Gretel.' It offends her most interestingly, and I believe she has taken a solemn vow to never again wear her hair in braids. Jen saw her first Muggle can opener when Mitch took us to Kaufmann's in Pittsburgh. (sort of like Harrods, except people spray gunk on you.) A salesgirl attempted that, by the way, it seems accosting customers with huge Mace-like bottles of perfume is a custom here. Jen was startled and got some right in her eye, (You should really do something about the language they learn in Slytherin,) and Mitch had to demonstrate the use of the Magic Word. It is 'lawyer' and it works better than Imperius on American Muggles. I suppose 'solicitor' would work back in London, but it doesn't really have the same ring to it. 

We heard from Hannah about Professor Trelawney being back. I don't think I need to elaborate on the topic any more, do you?

We also heard about Mum turning Jem Blodgett and some Slytherins into ferrets. If there's time someday in class, Jen would like a picture of her brother in such a form. It's amazing how much she laughs out here. She must have been really depressed at Hogwarts, because it's like Jen's a completely different person away from the Slytherins. Last week she announced her interest in learning to play the bass, and she and Mitch make a lot of noise and upset the Germans terribly. They have all these speakers and amplifiers about, some as tall as me, and crazed guitarist that she is, Mitchie gets this look like a dementor spying a children's birthday party whenever she's around the things. 

We were in the midst of a very stern and serious dress rehearsal when she and Jen decided we weren't looking and commenced to play 'Pinball Wizard' by the Who on those electric guitars they bought. Some of the Americans practically had apoplectic fits. Jen's is a bass, bright red with gold hardware and a great Griffie lion on the body just for the hell of it, she says. Mitch has what they call a Squier Werewolf. It's shiny silver colored, and "it has a heart of chrome and a voice like a horny angel." (Direct quote from the Yank, though I suspect she direct-quoted it from somewhere else.) She and Jen stayed up late last night playing, as Herr Vanderschmidt lets them use the amps then, and unless I'm wrong they're still asleep. We are staying in a very nice Muggle-run hotel with cable and a very peculiar brand of toothpaste nobody likes. Oh, and I am making Draco and Uncle Ron both brush their teeth, if Mum asks. 

Do you know if Chloe had a black cat called Pierre before we left? She just spends an inordinate amount of time with that beast and we Have Our Suspicions. You may want to check whether Aldous is at school. (nudge nudge.)

 We found the cutest stuffed toy for A.J. the other day. It's a purple kangaroo, very John Lennon. Mitchie announced that it was also high time we got him his first CD, so in the parcel is both the kangaroo and a copy of 'Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' from Mitch, 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' from Chloe, and 'Days of Future Passed' from me. (There was a minor disagreement at the record store.) Jen was clever enough to suggest we get him something a bit more appropriate for his age, like perhaps Raffi, but Mitch gave her this look and we agreed it would be a cruel and inhuman act to subject an innocent baby to what you would be like after hearing that. We did, however, get one, and it was Chloe's clever idea that you play it loudly through all corners of the Slytherin dormitories until they go mad. I will leave the matter to your good judgment.

Draco and I had another fight, this time about where the lot of us should get dinner, and would you believe Mitchie had the nerve to step in and resolve matters? Sometimes I hate that girl, really I do. But she's very good at many clever things, like circumventing the parental control locks on the cable so we can watch 'Sex and The City' reruns on HBO. Chloe has been watching it since birth, so we didn't feel you would object too much. Then we saw it. Honestly, the Americans never cease to amaze me in their lack of propriety. We're going to the films tonight, since it looks to be another week before there's any real action, and I will probably wind up sending you a full report of whether or not it is completely silly.

It's ten, now, so I have to go wake Jen and Mitchie up. Give my love to Mum and A.J.. I miss the three of you so much it hurts. Right now I have no idea when we'll be back, though, so it's annoying. Maybe I shall go pick a fight with Draco until I feel better. Oh, well. I'll write to you again tonight.

Love,

-Julie

*************************************************************** 


	56. Amusements and Distractions

Chapter Fifty-Six: Amusements and Distractions

"Do you nervously await the blows of cruel fate? Do your checks bounce higher than a rubber ball? Are you nervous 'cause your girlfriend's just a little late? Are you looking for a way to chuck it all? We can end your daily strife, at a reasonable price. You've seen it advertised in Life, you'll feel just fine now…"  
            -Paul Simon & Arthur Garfunkel, 1966.

"Tell me that isn't where we're going," Chloe begged. The theatre looked positively dingy, with faded posters one could barely read and cobwebs like fishnet stockings draped about.

"It's a way to keep it hidden from Muggles," Mitchie explained. "See? If it looks like an art house, only art freaks will come in, and they're all too pretentious to do anything about wizard films."

"Haven't you Yanks ever heard of simple Concealment Charms?"

"You try a Concealment Charm around Pittsburghers! The more inconspicuous a building looks, the more lost Muggles will mistake it for a hardware store. Have you any idea how many Obliviates we've had to do on people who need foreign car parts? Really!"

Just then, the old doorman let them into the lobby from the outside, and even superior Chloe's jaw hit the floor. There were mosaics and gilt figures and nineteen-tens light fixtures everywhere. Corsets and top hats would not have looked out-of-place. 

"Wow," Julie breathed, half expecting a can-can dancer or two to come prancing out. Mitchie had developed a very becoming expression that could only be called smug.

"Told y'."

"How old is this place?"

"It was built in 1904. Muggles sold it to us in the seventies, after they had converted it to films from vaudeville and basically ran it into the ground. The full restoration took awhile, still isn't entirely done." Mitchie indicated a flat section of wall with a bit of the plaster off, revealing even more mosaic tiles underneath. "Why the Muggles spackled these over, I'll never know."

"So it looks this good and it's not even done?"

"I don't know when they'll ever have the funds to get it really done. The owners have insisted on all-Muggle restoration methods, since magic can damage structural integrity or something like that. I don't know the terms. If you want to see some of the really cool stuff, though, over here they still have some old Muggle play posters." Mitchie began absently pointing out various and sundry American vaudeville performers from a century before her time. One picture she seemed to show especial reverence. "That's Fannie Brice. She was one of the first great female comediennes with the Ziegfeld Follies, then she worked independently and eventually had a great career in radio."

"Don't get Miss Parkington started on her," Julie observed dryly. "Flaming Barbra Striesand nut, made me write a ten-page research paper. Is it true her second husband was rather short?"

"Which, Barbra Striesand or Fannie Brice?" Chloe asked, confused. "I've seen 'Funny Girl' at my uncle's house, you mean to tell me she was a real person?"

For some odd reason Mitchie and Julie couldn't answer her, as the idea of Chloe's uncle showing her 'Funny Girl' was making them crack up. Jen shrugged, having only just gotten up to the nineteen-tens in her research of Muggle history.

"What are we seeing?" the former Slytherin asked. Mitchie grinned.

"Spy film, forgotten the title, actually. Best get seats before the crowds start in."

***************************************************************** 

No sooner had the four girls secured themselves seats in the balcony, but an absolute influx of people came surging in as if the fate of the world would be revealed in the previews. The Yank was suddenly falling victim to what was either an asthma attack or a giggling fit, having to chew on her cuff to make the laughter subside.

"Dare I even ask what is so funny?"

"Nothing, Chloe."

"No, you're definitely amused by something," Jen observed. "Mitchie, you don't happen to know something about the movie that we don't?"

"Uh…n-no, not exactly…you do sort of know about as much as I do about the plot."

Just then the theater darkened and the screen lit up luridly. There was one preview for what sounded a lot like 'Jurassic Park' done with dragons, as well as an animated children's film about a boy and his talking hippogriff. Mitchie wasn't the only one gnawing her cuff to keep from laughing at that point.

And then, after the traditional message imploring the audience to use proper trash receptacles, buy popcorn, and the like, the movie started. It began very dramatically, with a lot of darkness and hissing whispers, as well as a Dark Mark flashing through the sky. Just before the main titles ran, the girls saw who the lead actor was meant to be –and what he looked like.

Several people in the front spun around to see why anyone would be laughing at this film.

"Did you see that? He looks like Tom freakin' Cruise!"

"Ne pas vomir!"

"Mitchie, did you really need to show us this?"

"Don't rag on me, Julie, you're his kid, y'know."

The storms of laughter subsided for a moment as the Tom Cruise-Professor Snape began tidying up his classroom. 

"Merlin's arse, he's actually whistling!"

Another character entered at that moment, wearing what a Hogwarts uniform would have looked like had it run away and joined a Paris fashion show. The pleated skirt was almost six inches shorter, the robes had been tightened very strategically, and for some bizarre reason the Wonderbra had been added to the dress code. 

(Actually, it looked rather like Chloe's.) 

"What is this, a porn movie? Who dresses like that?"

"I wish they'd let us wear those uniforms."

As if the costume wasn't enough to reduce them into giggling puddles, the slow camera shot upward from the new character's feet past little pleated number and very un-studentlike cleavage to what Americans must consider an excuse for bushy hair, the character's first line and positively rapt expression convulsed the lot:

"You…wanted to se me after class, Professor?"

"Christ on a kaiser roll, that's my mum!"

Matters went steadily downhill from there. There was a positively nauseating scene with film Hermione talking to film Ginny about guys, an absolutely wretched portrayal of Professor McGonagall-

"Guess they gave everyone Wonderbras."

-and the single most pathetic example of womanhood since Eponine died in 'Les Miserables.' The film Snape was just about to go off and fight Voldemort, and the screen Hermione (whose uniform grew progressively tighter as matters grew more dire,) gave a little speech to the effect of 'don't die, because you would kill me as well.' There were people sniffling throughout the theater, and four girls almost choking themselves trying not to laugh. 

As if that wasn't bad enough, the film Wormtail was able to kidnap film Hermione without so much as a decent fight, and film Draco was able to find her for the good side within half an hour screen time. The public snogging that had actually revealed the student-teacher relationship was perfectly typical of Hollywood, complete with violins popping out of the woodwork and everyone approving of the couple instantly. The girls, however, knew full well that Ron had passed out on the spot from the shock of it and Professor McGonagall nearly used an Unforgivable on Snape; so their reaction to the ending was just as skewed as their reaction to the film as a whole.

That reaction would be hysterical laughter.

As they were leaving the theater, still howling over the utter lack of realism and ridiculously melodramatic lines, a man who was clearly attempting to grow his hair like Professor Snape's stopped them.

"Have you young ladies any idea what you're laughing at?"

It was too hard to resist. Slowly all four turned around, revealing real Hogwarts uniforms, and in Julie's case, Snape's actual countenance.

"Yes," they replied, smiling.

Needless to say, the man did not feel any need whatsoever to berate them further.

***************************************************************** 

Dear Mum,  
            Went to the films today. It was quite funny. Just out of curiosity, do you even _own_ a leather catsuit?  
            -Julie  
P.S. Keep Dad _away_ from wizarding cinema. Use a stick if you must.

**************************************************************** 

"Where have you been?" Malfoy asked them as their brooms landed.

"Pittsburgh, why?"

Ron appeared behind him, looking worried to the point of being irrational.

"We've gotten word that de Diablo's visiting the Dark Lady at nine tonight! You all have to get ready."

"I'll be transformed by then. Shall I wear the spiked collar?"

"Good. Chloe, get Julie into full makeup. Remember, evil. Julie, make your eyes red again. Jen…wait! What's Jen doing?"

"My faithful handmaiden," Julie remarked in an imperious tone that made Draco jump. Letting his mother give her lessons may not have been such a good idea. "Fetch me my goblet, wolfling, I've come about thirsty."

_"Wolfling?"_ Michelle asked indignantly. Julie gave her a sly wink with her now red and glowing eyes as if to say 'just adlibbing.' "Right."

"Pray, would you hold still a moment, my Lady?" Chloe grovelled as she got Julie's robes. Chloe grovelling was such an unprecedented sight that Jen could not restrain a giggle, and the French girl's glance of unadulterated venom was well worth it.

It was two hours to the most dangerous curtain call of their lives.

******************************************************************* 

"Judy, I'm certain Ron's okay. They would have owled if there was any news."

"Something's wrong, though, Hermione, I can just feel it." Judy was in a bit of a state, having had yet another nightmare about her fiance. A large, insect-looking woman wandered into the room, looking melodramatically dire about something.

"I fear_,_ _dears_, that this is _indeed_ a _sad_ day for both of you. Those you are worried about are to meet their _ultimate_ destiny _tonight_."

Judy looked at Professor Trelawney for five seconds and then abruptly burst into tears. Hermione, however, looked just short of justifiable homicide.

"Isn't this wonderful! Now we know they'll live!" she remarked as gleefully as she could while she glowered at the offending Divination teacher.

"Such a _tragically_ mundane mind you have, my dear. I fear denial is _always_ the first stage of grief…"

"Fuck off, Sybil," a voice announced from behind the two younger professors. In absolute shock and wonder, Hermione and Judy turned around to see who had spoken. Trelawney fled in abject and perfectly feigned despair.   
"I've wanted to say that for twenty years," Professor McGonagall announced.

**************************************************************** 


	57. Preparations

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Preparations

"Inside my heart is breaking, my makeup may be flaking, but my smile stays on… I'll top the bill. I'll earn the kill. I have to find the will to carry on with the show…"  
-Nicole Kidman, 'Moulin Rouge.'

"Well, I'm dressed," Mitchie announced to Chloe, who was struggling with Julie's elaborate costume. The American had merely buckled a fierce-looking collar loosely around her neck.

"Don't you have to get out of your people clothes as well?" the French student retorted in annoyance.

"Nope. I can go wolfy with 'em on."

"I always thought that that tore the clothes off you," Julie remarked. "That's always how it happens in Muggle films."

"What Muggles know about werewolves you could fit very easily on the tip of a sharpened quill and still have room for what I know about French ballet. Your clothes turn with you, which is why it's so vitally important to shake yourself off whenever you get wet. If you turn person with wet fur, your clothes'll be soaking."

"Is that why you won't let me give your fur highlights?" Chloe inquired.

"No, that's why I got so sniffy when Julie and Jen gave me a flea bath." The American scratched her neck thoughtfully and picked up a third muffin. "I didn't let you give me highlights 'cause I don't want 'em."

"Stop that!" Chloe implored.

"What?" Mitchie asked, a bit distortedly with muffin in her mouth.

"We're trying to get ready to face our mortal enemy and you're getting all the raisin ones!"

"You and raisin muffins! It's not like there were any blueberry ones left."

"There's plenty of chocolate chip and I don't like that kind!"

"Neither do I! Chocolate chip muffins are anachronistic." Julie gave Mitchie a look until she had finished chewing and explained: "Muffins are breakfasty healthy food. Chocolate chips are snacky bad-for-you food. It's like having champagne with hamburgers."

"Must you?" Chloe criticized, making a face of pure disgust at the thought of such culinary impropriety.

"Yes, I must," Mitchie replied, pulling the paper off the remaining muffin. "I can't eat muffins in an agitated manner…I'm liable to get butter on my cuffs."

"You let her read Oscar Wilde?" Chloe accused Julie. "And you've not got any cuffs on that!"

"'Course not. Cuffs on a vintage rock an' roll t-shirt'd look silly."

"Cuffs on you would look silly," the first-year teased.

"Well, since we're speaking of anachronisms, why's Julie in her sneakers?"

Chloe looked and Julie was indeed wearing the ancient pair of half-worn-through Reeboks. Her look of abject disgust was enough to convulse the other two.

"Chloe, those stiletto things really hurt."

"Yeah, Chloe, why don't you change her sneakers to look like 'em?" Mitchie challenged. "Give whole new meaning to 'looks like a pump, feels like a sneaker.'"

"Why don't you?"

"Okay. Just let me finish this muffin." 

A few seconds of chewing and a spell later, Julie was wearing knee-high leather boots with stiletto heels, pointy toes, and chrome zippers on both outside and inside. "I suppose to say 'ta-da' would be inappropriate?"

"She's the Dark Lady, not a call girl!"

"Oh, thanks, Chloe, I needed that image in my mind." With a slight howl, Mitchie covered her eyes before snatching another muffin.

"Actually, I really like these boots," Julie announced. "My father would send me to a convent if I wore them…can you make me a red-and-gold pair for school?"

"I have the same pair but higher and with three zippers," Jen announced, entering and pulling a three-foot-long leather object from her suitcase. "They also came with a matching riding crop and bustier."

"Dare I even ask what you went as that Halloween?" Mitchie queried.

"Just a leftover from one of Lyff's sicker fantasies…I liked the boots, though."

"You know, Jen, if I wasn't afraid of indigestion, I could seriously forget to take my potion and hide out in his room if you'd really like."

"You need to go on a diet as it is," Chloe sniped.

That was one insult the Yank had a problem with.

"Good idea, Chloe. Maybe I could try some low-calorie French cuisine this evening." Mitchie gazed at the first-year and ever so slowly ran her tongue across her teeth as if gazing at a potentially nice hor d'oeurve. 

"Knock it off, Chloe," Julie whispered in her ear.

"I'm sorry, Mitch."

"No 'fense, Frenchie."

"You wouldn't really…?"

"Eat you? Nope."

But the American did put the muffin down. Julie knew full well her friend was paranoid about her weight, and only eating muffins so she wouldn't have to eat as a wolf later. Personally, she really couldn't see why, as Mitchie was thinner than a good many other girls in school, and her height made the curves look perfectly natural, if not even more grown-up than others. But around naturally rake-ribbed people like herself and Jen, as well as obsessively appearance-fixated people like Chloe, Julie could see why Mitchie would feel bad.

"I suppose you could merely pretend to have forgotten your potion and scare him into a mild heart attack," Jen observed, zipping the leather boot up to near her thigh. "That, or you could merely dress up like Geri Halliwell. He's had nightmares about her since he was six."

"Nightmares about Geri Halliwell? He is a sick person," Chloe observed. "Who's Geri Halliwell?"

"My God, and you call yourself European," Mitchie remarked in shock. "Geri Halliwell was a Spice Girl in the late nineties."

"I always wanted to be like Sporty when I grew up," Julie recalled. 

"Well, Seeker, you sort of are, minus the tattoo and the whole playing-soccer thing."

"And let's face it, Chloe is Posh incarnate." Jen smiled.

"Yeah," Mitchie agreed. "I mean, deciding whether to wear the little Gucci dress, the little Gucci dress, or, the little Gucci dress."

"I have no idea what you lot are on about."

"They were this band when we were just born and little kids, bit before that, actually."

"Lyff cried when he found out Ginger had left the band."

"Really?" Mitchie crowed before suddenly blushing. "So did I, actually."

"Yeah, but you were a girl and not a boy Slytherin. That's when all the nightmares started."

"Y'know, Mitch, I bet that's why he doesn't like you, y'know." Julie indicated the mirror opposite them. "I mean, with an accent and a few blond streaks, plus take the glasses off…"

"You're mad."

"No, seriously." Julie stepped off the stool where Chloe had been fixing her costume. "Follicus rechromus!"

"Merciful peace, the resemblance is uncanny!" Jen grinned and pulled a satin sequined leotard from her bag. "Wouldn't Donaghan just drop dead if you came home wearing this?"

"And Julie can be Sporty. Lovely, Jen," the Yank remarked sarcastically, a faraway look entering her eyes. Chloe suddenly realized what the older two had in mind.

"Oh, merde…you lot are getting that weird 'we're so clever' look…you aren't-?"

"I wonder what Professor Snape would do," Jen puzzled, looking more and more conspiratorial by the second. "I believe I've got a little Gucci dress that fits me…and Chloe can wear something innocent and cute."

"Halloween is not for another seven months," Chloe reminded.

"Yeah, but the April Fools' Masquerade Ball is just one away," Julie recalled.

"It's a nice idea, but could you turn my hair back, Julie?" The fifth-year returned the blond steaks to their normal red. "We really do have some serious stuff to deal with tonight." 

Absently, Mitchie turned the gold ring around on her finger a few times, thinking very somberly of what she had to lose. For the first time, Julie noticed it and wondered what it meant. Jen nodded and zipped up her other boot. Chloe put the finishing touches on Julie's robes and then put on her own. Nobody touched any muffins after that.

Seeing Michelle Tyler serious about anything was enough to keep the others silent as the grave until Uncle Ron gave them a five minutes' call.

******************************************************************** 

A/N: Sorry this one's so short, but I had it done and the whole thing got erased, so this is the retyped first fourth of 57. I should be done with the rest in about two days.  
-j. mcn.


	58. In Which A Lot Hits the Fan

Chapter Fifty-Eight: In Which A Lot Hits the Fan

"Never thought I would hope as I count the miles, through the wind and the rain I could see you smile. There 'ent no turning back, I can see you in the distance, touch you through the night, driving into the light. When you're on your own, when you're all alone, won't you meet me halfway?"  
                  -Justin Hayward/John Lodge, 'The Present,' 1983.

"I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life…"

"What now?"

"Professor Trelawney told Lucy her chart was perfect. She's going to annoy me into the ninth circle of hell come lunch."

"Really? I've just been making my assignments up."

"_Honestly_, Tim? _Wow_, I would have _never_ known," Hannah remarked sarcastically. "Bitchy old fraud wouldn't know Divination from cheap romance novels."

"Hey! How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That's where Tom an' me got the idea for our latest tragic deaths."

"Which are?"

"Consumption."

"Tim, you are aware that consumption's been controlled since the nineteen-seventies?"

"Really? How depressing. I really need a good grade from the dragonfly."

"You call her that as well?"

"Sure, and why not? She looks like one."

"Whose cheap romance novels are you borrowing?"

"Tom got ahold of one of Lucy's, of course."

"Oh, that tripe. Julie and Mitchie had several really funny ones…the Muggle kind, you know, and every time there was a blank page, the Yank illustrated it…you can't read those, though."

"Why not? Don't want me getting ideas?"

"No…don't want you speaking French at me and writing bad poetry."

"All bad poetry comes from great inspiration."

"Or great indigestion."

"Besides, doesn't Aldous kind of hold the patent on French and bad poetry?"

"Speaking of Mr. Howard," Professor Snape interjected, coming around the corner directly into the little discussion. "I am under the impression that he has not been seen for the past three weeks."

"Oh, yes, Professor…didn't he have to go home because his aunt was sick?" Hannah lied glibly.

"He might well have, Miss Stern, if not for the fact that his parents are both only children. Care to enlighten me as to where he really is?"

"Well, sir," Tim stammered, "I haven't seen him since the dance…he gave Chloe a kitten, though, she was carrying it."

"A black cat?"

"Yes, darling little furry one," Hannah recalled. 

"Damn."

"Is anything wrong, Professor?"

"No, nothing beyond the normal realms of teenage predictability. I suggest you both return to your Common Room and study for tomorrow's test. Good evening."

And with that, the professor was gone in a flurry of black robes like some overgrown bat.

"I seriously wonder just how much 'Fessor Granger's calmed him down over the years," Hannah queried.

"According to my dad an' Uncle George, he used to be seven times as bad. Which of course begs the question, how did she stand to get near him to calm him down?"

"D'you suppose it's just one of those preordained fate-y kind of things, where two people are just meant to wind up together no matter what a thorn the other person is?"

"I s'pect so…wonder if that's how Tom puts up with Lucy's Divination fix."

*********************************************************** 

"Mew," Pierre the cat observed, pawing at Malfoy's shoe. Draco picked the little creature up and scratched him behind the ears. "Mew."

"Chloe, come get your cat."

"Mew."

"He sounds nervous," Draco observed, handing the little creature to its mistress.

"Would he look nice sitting on your lap, Julie? Dark Ladies do often keep black cats." Chloe placed Pierre neatly on her friend's lap, at which placement he mewed again. 

"Is he supposed to make that noise?" Julie asked, tensing a little in the Titania-like pose she had chosen for her throne, lazily stretched across it in a lounging and oddly indelicate way, because of the cat now perched unceremoniously on her gut.

"Yes."

"But so often?" Malfoy asked.

"Usually. He _is_ just a little cat." The French girl bent and whispered something in French to the half-grown feline. "Be good." She then excused herself to go get something she had forgotten, leaving the 'Dark Lady' alone with her 'butler.'

"Come here, Draco," Julie commanded, more to practice than because she really felt imperious. He obeyed, and not realizing that they had been left with anything more than a furry chaperone, kissed her long and well on the lips. Her eyes widened in shock and she pulled away. "What?" 

But it was too late.

Pierre leapt off of her lap as if he had been electrocuted and blurred into the form of Aldous Howard, just as Chloe returned.

"Meow!" he interjected, then remembered himself and spoke in English. "What the fuck?"

"C'est le merde," Chloe observed with a sigh. "I should have warned you, dear."

"C'est le-a-hell-of-a-lot-more-than-merde, Chloe! She…he…they were just at it!" The Seeker and professor at least had the grace to blush. "You're a professor!"

"Oh, well spotted!" Julie remarked acidly.

"Don't do that!" the Chaser begged in abject horror.

"What?"

"Acting all know-it-all-y! He just snogged you and he's your professor!"

"I _noticed_, Aldous."

"Well, it would've been kind of hard for her to _not_," Chloe added.

"And you _knew_ about this?" The first-year shrugged. _"Chloe!"_

"I think it's romantic," she defended with an innocent smile.

"You think everything's romantic! You're fucking French!"

"Got a problem with that?" she inquired, hands on her hips in a very indignant fashion.

"He's her professor! She's only like…Julie, how old are you?"

"Old enough to have decent taste in men," she replied a little snippily before kissing Malfoy again. Aldous covered his eyes as if seeing something being eaten alive.

"Gods!"

"Did we miss something?" Mitchie inquired brightly, entering with Jen, guitars slung over their shoulders and patch cords dragging. They had evidently just returned from a bit of practice. "Aldous! Hi!"

"Hey, Mitch," he greeted absently before turning accusingly to the Yank. "Did you know about this?" he asked, gesturing frantically to Julie and Malfoy.

"About what?" Draco wiped a bit of lipstick off. "Oh, that? Sure."

Jen went about as white as Aldous.

"Let me guess, you think it's romantic, too, nevermind he's old enough to be her dad!"

"No, I just want her busy to keep Donaghan to myself," the American snapped sarcastically. "Of course it's romantic! They're entirely cute together!"

"Julie, you're…?" Jen asked, unable to pronounce the inevitable. Her friend nodded sheepishly.

"I would have told you…it just never came up."

Jen's first instinct was to run away so the others wouldn't see her reaction, but she knew Julie would be certain to follow, so she did not. She felt absolutely betrayed, and oddly not even by her friend, but by her own stupidity. 

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since before Christmas…Halloween, actually," Malfoy admitted.

So she really had never had a chance. Jen swallowed hard and called up her old skills learned as a child of Slytherin.

"I would never have known…you two must really like each other to go to all the effort of hiding it." The others saw a smile, but inside her heart was snapping into bits of matchwood. "I'm assuming your parents don't know, Julie?"

"Well…Mum sort of does…she knows I like him, that's all."

Draco and Aldous both looked absolutely gobsmacked at this. 

"She knows?"

"Well, not every paltry detail down to the last tooth mark, obviously, seeing as you're still standing there in those damn dishy leather pants-"

"Merlin's arse on a pole, Julie! Knock it off!" Aldous protested. 

"Knock what off?" she challenged, knowing that it was only by being belligerent and mildly salacious she could get away with this. 

"Sounding like a- a…"

"Scarlet woman?" Ron supplied, wandering in with a big grin and a huge box of Muggle takeout. "I've noticed her metaphors tend to slide into the nether place as of late, but it's nothing compared the Yank –Aldous!"

"Yes, he's just appeared out of nowhere, isn't that clever?" Mitchie covered, stepping in front of the red-haired Auror not only to prevent Aldous's look of shock making him realize something he shouldn't, but also to pick up one of the soda cans. "I believe Chloe's cat was actually him…Julie's started up her scandalous-Dark-Lady shtick again."

"Oh, well, that's what this owl's about, actually…de Diablo's been unavoidably detained. You girls get another week before curtains-up."

"Really?" Julie inquired, descending from her throne in a manner unabashedly stolen from Muggle films. Drawing on the best supervamp training Narcissa Malfoy and Nicole Kidman flicks could provide, she sauntered over to Aldous and absently began to play with his hair as she covered for herself and the professor: "Poor Aldous is being treated _appallingly_…poor dear's stumbled right into our 'emergency rehearsal' and then been told entirely the wrong thing. Would you be a duck and tell him what's been going on, then?" she inquired of Uncle Ron.

The fact that Aldous was slightly taller than she was marred the effect of this seductress act only slightly, and Ron's ears had suddenly gone red as his hair.

"If you'll explain why you're frolicking around him like a bloody veela, Jules!"

"Was it really that good? I've been practicing," she remarked artlessly, shrugging toward Chloe as she caught the soda Mitch threw at her. Looking exactly like her old self, only oddly dressed, she tried to open the can, making instead a splintery noise, which was audible through the entire room. _"Ow!"_

"How many times do I 'ave to pound it into your 'ead, Julie! No opening cans with your nails!"

"Ow…"

"Oh, 'old still," the little first-year snapped, repairing the genuinely ridiculous nail with a quick spell. "If you could please _attempt_ to be a lady instead of a –a Quidditch jock?"

"At least she's stopped ragging on me now, Jules," Mitchie observed, throwing down a fuzzy blanket for picnic dinner on the floor.

"I'm starting to think 'zat _you_ are a lost cause."

"Damn straight," the American replied a bit sharply to her, circling very wolfishly around both Chloe and Aldous, getting right in their faces with a threatening look and a deviant's smile. "I'm uncouth. I'm untamed. I bite my nails and I don't wear eyeshadow. I've broken more rules than you'd care to hear. I could tell you stories that would make you both blush and cover your ears in offended shock. I keep secrets that people's lives hang upon." Here she cracked her thumbs and yawned in her odd way, her tongue stretching over her incisors like a dog's. "And considering how I'll be a very large, very predatory animal within the next two hours, I would suggest you not mess with me."

Oddly, nothing more was said about Julie and Draco in Uncle Ron's presence.

************************************************************ 

Angus flapped his way over the forests and the lakes, finally coming to rest on another werewolf's outstretched arm. Tied to his foot was a sizeable roll of parchment.

Donaghan fed the owl a bit of his sandwich and set him on the bronze owl-perch near his desk. He unrolled the parchment, sniffing it deeply to recognize among the scents of charcoal and graphite and even ink the one smell he missed the most direly now. Carefully he separated the drawings and put them in the correct order with his carefully handwritten pages of history. Altogether with the latest twelve, this made for a grand total of 278 pages of text with 47 illustrations in color or black and white. He used the Binding Spell that Professor Granger had showed him that afternoon, and suddenly a fat, leather-bound textbook was in the stack of notes' place.

'Two Worlds, One Time; A Comprehensive History of Magic and Muggles,' read the title on the front. 'By Donaghan McPhersen, with illustrations by Michelle Isolde Tyler.' Gods, he missed her. He wondered inwardly what edition the book would be in when only one last name was required.

Suddenly, a knock interrupted these musings. Swiftly, picking up his book, Donaghan answered it, finding Professor Snape together with a nervous-looking gentleman.

"McPhersen, if you would be so kind as to join me in the Potions classroom?"

"Of course, per'fessor…is somethin' wrong?"

"Yes, actually. Aldous Howard has strayed to America with Chloe Delacour-Davies."

"I was after suspectin' he might'a done 'at," Donaghan remarked, pulling the door shut behind him as he walked off with the two older men. "I'm sorry ter' say I've been a bit distracted o'late."

"What with your extra-credit project, I don't blame you." Snape rounded a corner with the nervous man walking double-time to keep up. "Oh, have you two met?" he suddenly inquired, stopping at the door of his wife's classroom. "Mr. Granger, this is Donaghan McPhersen, Donaghan, this is Julie's grandfather." The two shook hands.

"Lovely ter' meet y', sir."

"Pleasure's mine."

With that taken care of to his satisfaction, Severus opened the door, revealing what must have at one point been a very amiable group of people, but was now a wreckage of sniffing females with teary eyes and two identically bushy-haired women trying to control things with Professor McGonagall. One of the sniffing ladies was clearly Aldous's mother, considering how much she and her husband resembled him, and the other could only be the fabulous Madame Delacour-Davies. They seemed to be crying for entirely different reasons.

"He could be killed, running off to another country in the midst of an Auror mission…" Mrs. Howard sniffed.

"And it ees so _romantic_!" Chloe's mother added, waving a handkerchief made more out of white lace than anything.

That did it. Donaghan, apart from trying not to laugh himself, knew full well Professor Granger and who could only be her mother were stifling it themselves. Professor McGonagall actually had to nudge Hermione in the ribs, all the while covering her own mouth as well.

"Ladies," an aristocratic, throaty voice announced. "I would suggest that you both calm down and permit the professors to explain the plan of correction to you."

It was, of course, Narcissa Malfoy. Something about her calm, collected manner made both mothers abruptly silent as a tomb. "Severus?" she inquired of the professor.

"The only way to retrieve Aldous is for someone to go and get him. With the present state of the American Aurory, his return alone would be exceedingly dangerous. What's more, delays have forced the Auror Office to reconsider the female students' and English Aurors' involvement. It is therefore illogical to consider sending someone to get him if the others will be soon called home as well. I am certain Misters Weasley and Malfoy will devise some proper and educational use for him, and since the staff has already prepared to send the females' homework out with a tutor, we can simply include work for him as well. His academics will not suffer, and all possible measures will be taken to ensure that he is every bit as safe as the girls are there. You can relax."

There was a silence as everyone considered this idea. Finally Mrs. Howard spoke, a bit harshly:

"At least he could have sent us a note to say where he was going."

From there matters seemed to be attended to, and the mothers began to chat idly about their children, telling Chloe-stories and little anecdotes about Aldous. They were pulling out the baby pictures and comparing when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

"If this is an alright plan of action by the two of you?"

"Oui, naturelment."

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Now that _that's_ settled-"

"Aren't 'zhere some uzzer muzzers?" Fleur's mum inquired suddenly, looking around as if counting heads. The only people present apart from herself and Mr. Davies were the Howards, the Grangers, the Granger-Snapes, Professor McGonagall, Narcissa Malfoy, Donaghan, Judy Parkington, and Molly Weasley. "I thought 'zhere were four girls 'zhere."

"There are," Professor Granger clarified. "Two are ours, the one is yours, and the other-"

"Vos in Slytherin…I 'ave 'eard. 'Zat _bastard_ Blodgett, 'e's not fit to-" Madame Delacour-Davies went abruptly into a long and melodious string of French with fascinatingly impassioned gestures, convulsing Mrs. Granger, Hermione, and Mr. Davies, and causing Snape and McGonagall to raise their eyebrows in surprise. Narcissa was stifling an absolute fit of mirth.

"French is such an –er, colorful language," Professor McGonagall remarked tactfully. 

"I will say that I find her description incredibly apt," Severus chimed in.

"If we can dispense with Slytherin-bashing," Molly Weasley asked, "I'm sort of curious about who we're sending as a tutor."

'So _that_ explains her presence,' Donaghan realized. Mrs. Weasley was there to keep the small group on-task, as was Mrs. Malfoy as the two grown Aurors' representatives. So amused was he by this clever design of Professors McGonagall and (he'd bet,) Granger, that he scarcely noticed Professor Snape placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I trust you all have heard of Master McPhersen's exploits on the Quidditch field?" the professor asked the others. They nodded, some more enthusiastically than others, with Mr. Davies grinning more brightly than ever. "Well, apart from having broken the record for Bludger-related injuries, he has elected to take his N.E.W.T.'s early. He has only mine to complete and will then for all intents and purposes no longer be considered a student –except as the Gryffindors' Chaser and Captain, of course." Snape nodded to his wife, who continued the explanation.

"What we're suggesting, is to send him as the girls' and Aldous' tutor, since he has made his intent to work in education known. Moreover, he's a very good friend of theirs, and I'm certain that if the girls have been hiding in the library and skipping meals as he has, we'd better get the lot back together before someone starves."

"You yourself have not considered going, 'Mione?" Fleur asked.

"I have Albus Julian to take care of, as does Severus. We've considered sending Judy here as well, but the American Aurory doesn't want her taking any unnecessary risks."

"Y-y' mean yeh want me ter' go ter' America?" Donaghan stuttered.

"Well, if you don't _want_ to," Professor Snape remarked.

"Na! I'm bloody dyin' ter' see –them again…when d'we leave?"

"Do you feel up to your Defense Against the Dark Arts final tonight?"

"An' then I can leave?"

"In the morning, yes. Let me remind you, however, Donaghan," Snape reminded, using the Chaser's first name, "you are entering a mission against the very Dark Arts I've been training you against, with five of my present and two of my former students, not to mention Michelle and Julie. _I would suggest studying."_

"An' wha' d'yeh think I've been after _doin' _this whole month she- _-they've_ been away?"

"The vaunted Gryffindor courage…" Snape observed with a sigh and a veiled look of pride. "Well, if that's settled, let's go get on with it."

Professor McGonagall was glaring slightly at Severus as he left with Donaghan, but the fairly luminous grin on the Scot's face seemed to cheer her up.

"You do realize, Minerva," Hermione reminded, "Donaghan fancies Mitchie."

"Yes, I know." The two female professors and a few of the others sighed sentimentally. "I do hope Severus doesn't kill him with the N.E.W.T."

********************************************************


	59. Profoundest Shocks

A/N: This chapter contains events that some readers will no doubt be ticked with me for. If you can't possibly read this without a flame, then please, indulge your Inner Critic and tell me I did bad. I sort of expect some. But otherwise, could you just leave me a review? They're so lovely to read to my new kitten.  
By the way, I have a kitten now. Cats are lovely things, aren't they?

Chapter 59: Profoundest Shocks

                  "They'll stone you when you're tryin' to be so good! They'll stone you jes' like they said they would! They'll stone you when you're tryin' to go home. And they'll stone you when you're there all alone. But I would not feel so all alone! Ev'rybody mus' get stoned!"  
                  -Bob Dylan, 'Rainy Day Women #12 & 35'

It had been three uneventful days since the delay had been announced, and the restlessness of being in a foreign land for no reason had already taken hold of Julie and Chloe. Consequently they had taken Aldous and Uncle Ron off for a little bit of a shopping trip. Mitchie was personally a little too tired to go, having stayed up late as was her wont for the past week and a half. Aldous had insisted on guarding Julie's door or having it guarded to prevent any kind of nocturnal impropriety, and the werewolf was simply more of a night person than anybody else. This was not to say that she kept odd hours, merely that she rose promptly every day at the crack of noon.

Mitchie knew something was amiss with Jen. One simply did not sit in the sun and play Tori Amos songs all day without a damn good reason, in her opinion. And it wasn't like Jen could claim getting a tan as an excuse. She was still as pale as ever, perhaps even more so, now that dark circles and red-rimmed eyes had appeared as part of her countenance. Mitch privately suspected Jen had a crush on her teacher, and was therefore heartbroken by Aldous' discovery. In fact, she was certain the ex-Slytherin liked Malfoy. It was perfectly logical! The American glanced out of the hotel window and picked up her guitar. Jen was already by the pool with her bass.

"'Mawnin', mawnin' glory, would y' like ta' know where was I las' night?'" Mitchie quoted in a ridiculous Southern drawl, startling Jen right in the middle of what sounded like a particularly tragic song.

"What?" Jen queried, looking profoundly surprised to see anybody there. "Could you sod off the sneaking behind me, Mitch?"

"If you'll quit actin' like Lennon just died again."

"I thought Lenin was an evil Russian dictator."

"Lenin was but Lennon wasn't."

"There were two brothers?"

_"Merciful peace_, Jen! The Beatles, the one wearing green on the Sergeant Pepper cover!" Mitchie slapped herself in the forehead theatrically. "And you call yourself English," she added as an afterthought.

"What are you on about, Yank?" Jen asked testily, tightening her hand around the neck of the bass as if she planned to use it as an axe.

"Well, you've been acting like the worst case of Eponine's Disease that I've _ever_ seen…"

"Eponine's Disease?"

"My god, don't you even _read_ French novels?"

"_You_ don't."

"I know. But I saw the musical." The American sighed and grabbed a chair next to Jen's, lifting her guitar into position ready to play. "Eponine was the single most pathetic female character in all of Victor Hugo, with the possible exception of that weakling in 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame.'"

"The gypsy one?"

"Yeah! Feminism, anyone? Sisterhood?" Mitchie noticed the leftover takeout box and grabbed a chopstick to impale some General Tso's chicken. "Anyway, this chick Eponine lives this positively miserable life, because you know, everybody in that book did, and then she develops this hopeless crush on a student guy who's always nice to her."

"_Really?_ How _clever_. Hugo must have been _really_ original," Jen observed with sarcasm dripping from every pore.

"I know! And anyway, the student guy was in absolutely nauseating love with this other girl, that Eponine's parents mistreated as a kid an' all, -didn't have a spine, either, none of Hugo's females did- and so she goes with him to the revolutionaries' barricade and leaps in front of a gun to save his life an' all."

"That _is_ pathetic."

"That's not the worst of it. He finds her bleeding on the ground and she insists that it doesn't hurt, and she's all comforted to see him again, and she gives him the letter from the other chick, not that it's important, and then she asks him to kiss her _after_ she's dead."

"Oh, my god! That is _awful_!"

"And then when she's been still for a few seconds, she's like, 'And then you know, I believe I was a little in love with you.'"

"A _little_?" Jen was finally laughing again. "Bugger, she just up and got shot for him!"

The two girls spent a few minutes laughing hysterically and munching the chicken until Jen suddenly went serious:

"And you're saying I'm acting pathetic, then?"

"Ever so _slightly_," Mitchie admitted bluntly. "I mean, I don't disagree with you on the looks, and you're clearly not the first person to get the crush. But Julie seems really happy with him, y'know?"

Jen looked at the American as if seeing her for the first time. She had figured it out, and what was more, she had just about admitted to similar feelings! 

Suddenly, the ex-Slytherin began considering matters a bit differently. The Yank scarcely ever looked anything less than scruffy, and apart from occasions of absolute necessity requiring the school uniforms, Mitchie wasn't very keen on skirts. She had also forsaken the light swipe of eyeshadow in an effort both to disgust the fastidious Chloe and in the name of expedience since they had left Hogwarts. She was decidedly liberated, being almost as much the ardent feminist as Professor McGonagall, and easily the closest example of rock-star hedonism personified. Mitch even played guitar and quoted ancient lyrics!

True, yes, she was dating Donaghan. But the Scotwolf was presently miles away! And what Lyff had forced her to read of bestiality had the nerve to come dancing into her mind again. 

A werewolf. 

A cute werewolf.

It wasn't even that Mitchie was abnormally pretty, but the dark red hair and mature figure did have their good points. And Jen had always had a great liking for less-than-pureblooded, if not downright rough-edged people. What was more, the American had taught her to play the bass. They were friends, now, closer than she could have hoped.

"Seriously, Jen, it's nothing really to be worried about or ashamed of…"

"No, Michelle, it isn't," Jen agreed quietly.

The next thing Mitchie knew, she was being kissed. She wasn't exactly the world's expert on the practice, but it wasn't too bad and impassioned enough that she didn't pull away.

_But it was Jen!_

Thousands of miles away in Australia, a koala fell on it's ass and made a little 'eep' sound of surprise. About fifty feet away behind a shrubbery, Donaghan received the shock of his life.

These two events were marginally unrelated.

Mitchie succeeded in pulling away from her friend just long enough to give her a look of total astonishment and stammer out an incoherent "Um-?" before Jen was pulling her closer with a hand at the back of her neck and another on her shoulder. She really was incredibly good at kissing. Had it been any human on the face of the earth besides Jen, or any other male person, Mitchie would probably have relaxed under this treatment, but the little mental alarms were all exploding into bits. 

'This is highly incorrect!' the little English voice in her head told her.

Donaghan's mental voice, on the other hand, was about as incoherent as Mitchie's physical one as she had tried to protest or ask what was going on. He should have felt terribly betrayed, and would have had it been anyone but Jen. But another girl up and snogging his girlfriend? Gods, he had known she was attractive, but even to other females? This was mind-boggling! He wanted to make her react to him the way Jen was acting now, or maybe just watch them a little more to see if anything came of it. He wanted those clothes off, her hair loose, to touch her…

'Merlin's arse! Thinking with the wrong brain, are we?' his mental voice chastised.

The Scotsman watched, blushing, as Mitchie said something to Jen that could only be an apology, then left in the direction of their hotel rooms. His heart broke for the ex-Slytherin, who very calmly and quietly nodded and let the other girl go before sitting frozenly where she was.

Rather than make her intensely uncomfortable, Donaghan took the gentleman's way out by going around to the side door and racing to beat his girlfriend to her quarters.

Or maybe not so gentlemanly, considering what he was now giving some serious thought to doing once he got there.


	60. From Whence Wolves Come

Chapter Sixty: From Whence Wolves Come

"I was born at a very young age. Things got steadily worse from there."  
                  -Anonymous

'Michelle Tyler

Defense Against the Dark Arts

March thirty-first

Anecdotal History assignment

Let me begin this ridiculous homework on a happy note. Chloe is not nice.

I mean, sure, she made this goofy quill-thing write by itself everything I say to it, which is dead convenient, but she's also made the others leave me here while they go get dinner. I hate it when she does that. It's boring here! And yeah, I know Julie knows what my favorite food is and she'll make sure they bring some for me ('cause for some reason we only get takeout, the Aurors won't let us eat in restaurants.) but I'm still sort of offended to not be going. I mean, we wolves love outings! Even when I have to wear a leash, I like going out. It's my nature. When I'm in my wolfy form, I'm one of those friendly sniffing sorts that lick everyone and bark and wag my tail. 

(That really takes some effort, though. You try wagging a shaggy tail sometime.)

I suppose I should draw a picture of myself as a wolf. So I'm doing that now on a bit of drawing paper and if Professor Snape wants this illustrated, (please?) I'll rubber cement it in. Don't you love that stuff? I mean, wizards can just enchant two things to stick to each other, and Muggles have all kinds of other nice adhesives, but something about rubber cement is just nice. You get a brush to put it on with, and if you put some on your hand it peels off all the dirt and is a really good exfoliant. The smell is a little off-putting until you get used to it, but altogether, I am sort of a rubber cement liker. 

I suppose I have to explain why I even know the stuff exists. Great.

Alright, here goes. My parents were both wizards. My father came from a long line of American and before that Irish and Scots and English people named Tyler who were also werewolves. His name was John Tyler and he was sort of grey when he changed and wore glasses all the time. The closest physical comparison I have for him is the fellow who played keyboards for the Doors or maybe a really centuries-younger Dumbledore. According to my mother's journal, he was a total dish and deliciously shaggable. That's a direct quote from the entry the night they met. I expect I've inherited a bit of her good judge of character, if maybe not quite the terminal bluntness.

My mother's name was Cassandra Antigone Alcott Tyler. She was, quite obviously, Muggle-born and the daughter of literature and history professors. I was quite nearly named Antigone, by the way, my father's idea, but Mom told him exactly what he could do with that concept. I mean, 'Antigone'? It sounds like one of Professor Snape's more malodorous ingredients. Can't you just see him: 'No, Tyler, a bit more of the arrowroot and far less antigone.' I mean, if you're going to have an odd name, you have to have the character to carry it off, you know? Like my friend Theodoric and Professor Granger at Hogwarts. They've both got unusual first names, but they're interesting and really intelligent. It's _logical_ for them!

As matters worked out, my parents named me Michelle IsoldeTyler. Nice name, really, -though it still took me the first year to say it. Michelle is both a sort of almost-joke and the name of one of my mother's friends. Isolde is after my great-grandmother. I think they did really well in naming me, even if it did degenerate to 'Mitchie' before I was even an hour old.

I never knew my parents. There was this accident as they were taking me home from the hospital as a newborn, never did puzzle out what happened, but I never had a scratch on me from it. After that, my uncle Paul took care of me until I was five. Then he died after being sick for a long time, and Uncle George and his wife took me in. He had rather severe food allergies, and accidentally died from curry pepper. I still won't touch the stuff, just in case. Aunt Rebecca kept me for a while, but she wasn't really up to taking care of a seven-year-old werewolf cub, and Uncle Richard got me. She passed away soon after, 'of a broken heart,' Uncle Richard said. 

Of all my father's three brothers, he's the one I resembled the most. I have Dad's and Mom's and his red hair, glasses like the three of them, and Dad and Uncle Richard's eyes, sort of blue-green-gray colored ones. Uncle Richard was only twenty when I was seven, and more like a big brother or cousin than really an uncle. He taught me to read, which didn't go too well, and to draw, which did. I don't make an issue of the fact that I don't read or write well, but I can draw, and usually a picture is enough to get the idea across. Donaghan reminds me a little of Uncle Richard the way he looks at my drawings, that sort of slow smile whenever I hand him one. I think I would be a very different person if I could have stayed with Uncle Richard longer, but either a family curse or simple bad luck kind of devoided me of relatives. Uncle Richard's motorcycle crashed and put him in a wheelchair for the last eighteen months of his life, which meant that my cooking lessons and self-sufficiency training began. Our neighbor, a lovely young widow, came over and both taught me and helped him. Catherine was ill when we met her, but it didn't stop Uncle Richard from proposing and the two of them getting married on my ninth birthday. Uncle Richard was gone within the next three months, and Catherine followed by Christmas. 

This is getting dreary, now, isn't it?

My foster parents, to put it bluntly, did not understand my kind. I mean, I was nine years old, could ride a motorcycle, (yes, I do know how,) any broom you handed me, survive in downtown Pittsburgh by my lonesome for as long as I liked, and turn into a wolf every full moon at night.

Their response to this was to chain me up.

Every night of a full moon at around seven, depending on daylight savings time, I had a thick leather collar buckled around my neck, and I was taken outside to what amounts to a somewhat smaller kennel than Hagrid has for Claw. It was more humiliating than painful, except when they decided to get cute and install an invisible fencing system like Muggles use for dogs. I of course, made a run for it, and got electrocuted in the throat from this battery in my new collar. Keep in mind that as much as a werewolf looks like a common, ordinary wolf, it's still a person of that age and size in reality. A collar and fence tuned for a hundred-and-ten pound wolf could kill a sixty-seven pound nine-year-old, as I discovered in the worst way imaginable. 

American Muggles have an organization called CYF, short for Children, Youth and Families. It is the biggest gathering of incompetents and mindless fools in the world, especially the Pittsburgh chapter. The purpose of this organization is to provide housewives with a method of threatening each other. If someone else offends you, you call CYF, and they go interview them and sniff around and scare them, because CYF can take kids away. Anyway, one misguided lady who was under the foolish impression that CYF actually did anything useful, called them when she saw me unconscious in the back yard the next morning. After a trip to the hospital and some healing charms on my burned neck, I was fine, except that CYF came sniffing around like the vultures they are and investigated the idiots meant to be taking care of me.

Result: I stayed with them, except I had to go to Muggle school.

Logic is not common in American bureaucracy. 

I started with what you might call a bad attitude. Muggles had done nothing but annoy me my entire life, what with their crowds and freakish movies detailing how god-awful they assumed werewolves were. Besides, my male foster-parent was a Muggle. (I don't use the word 'dad' or 'mom' to describe that unholy pair.) Apart from decently good taste in movies and fascination with any small bit of magic I did, there really wasn't much to like about the fellow. He was rather a boring sort. They weren't really trying to be mean to me, they just didn't understand werewolves. So they were very nice about Muggle school, and tutored me into at least rudimentary knowledge of their customs and history and maths and stuff. 

The Muggle teachers were shocked by my reading and writing, of course. The fact that I didn't know what a pencil sharpener was never entered into matters, because those two basic skills were so bad. I wound up being placed in remedial reading, but junior-high level math. I've never had any problem whatsoever with numbers. According to the Muggle principal, however, I had some bizarre illness that was causing this, which I believe may have been a total crock, but I do remember getting sympathetic looks and smiles when I asked why they didn't just give me some medicine to clear it up. 'Dyslexia,' the Muggles called it. Wizards never mentioned any crap like that, so I wrote it off and just played around doing their worksheets and stuff until I turned eleven and I left to go to 'private school.' In the meantime, I got to understand and reasonably like Muggles, and also learned how to hot-wire cars, incidentally.

The Morrison Academy isn't much like Hogwarts. For one thing, we didn't wear uniforms or stay in dormitories. At the end of the day we went home, and we only ate lunch there. I made a few friends by the end of my second year, which we called sixth grade around Muggles, and I did reasonably well in the dueling club. I rather liked it, actually, until the end of third year. Another kid from my foster home was getting picked on and needed to distract attention from his own problems, so he outed me. Noone believed him at first, but then there was an eclipse during the day and I transformed right in the middle of lunch.

(So much for my friends and sense of normalcy.)

If God gives you a choice between being a werewolf wizard or an epileptic Muggle at American public school, kill yourself and come back as a butterfly. Everyone acts as if you're about to explode at any second, and some schools even make you wear insignia to distinguish your 'problem.' At Morrison it was a five-pointed star armband. I was one of maybe three there, and the other two were both girls as well, so dating was really not an option. It was only when a new student came and had the audacity to ask me out in front of the entire population of the Academy that my social life really restarted.

Theodoric Malfoy was easily the most attractive guy at Morrison, what with the blond hair and Southern accent that made even the most menial sentence sound like a seduction attempt. There's one genetic problem with werewolves, though, we mate for life, or I will say, those leather pants would not have stayed on him all that long.

And yes, werewolves do get horny just like ordinary teenagers. At least I hope the lot of you are this bad sometimes. 

Teachers always said Theodoric's name wrong, which he hated, so we did wind up playing a lot of harmless pranks. (It's not 'Theodore' with an 'ic' attached, it's 'the-ah-door-ick,' by the way.) We got along like the partners-in-crime we were, with our odd pasts and family histories as common ground. I mean, I'm a Tyler and he's a Malfoy. What's more logical? And the pranks we played…the Weasley boys have a little work to go before they impress me better than some of things Theo and I cooked up. Teachers never realized it was us, usually, because for all the world it looked like the two loneliest kids in school just being friends, which they approved of. Eventually something had to give, though, and I was nearly expelled in the first month of my fifth year.

Wouldn't you love to know why? Sod off.

Meanwhile, through all of this, since I was very small, I had been secretly keeping one dream apart from all the other ones. That dream was England. I knew my parents had worked there and been considering emigration before I was born, and the one picture I've always had of them was taken there. What's more, I didn't follow American politics or sports, partially because I didn't like Americans, and partially because Quidditch scores are reported mostly in numbers and on the radio. My favorite team became the Chudley Cannons, simply because they sounded so interesting and fun on the WWN TransAtlantic sports channel, and I decided I wanted to be a Keeper if I ever found a Quidditch team that would take werewolves. 

What's more, to Americans who aren't happy in America, England sounds pretty damn good. Can you blame me? There was also the incredible volume of Alan Rickman and Ewan McGregor films I saw, which may at least partially account for some of my more unusual preferences. I actually got away with going as the one courtesan from 'Moulin Rouge' for Halloween with-

Nevermind. That unholy anecdote will have to wait until I'm dead. Or until Theodoric meets Chloe. Either one.

So here you have me, Anglo-obsessed, discontented, and then the one friend I have has to go and get transferred. Then on top of that, my pet collie died. Uncle George had bought Mr. Kite for me years before, and through just about everything awful, I had had him. (You _did_ know we werewolves can talk to dogs, right?) Needless to say, I fell into some rather bad habits then. At the mature and philosophical age of fifteen, I 'made friends' with an amateur potion-brewer at school, who, in exchange for the odd fill-in date (he was extremely geeky and couldn't find an all-human female to save his life,) provided me with various and sundry useful chemicals.

Okay, the scene where the writer gets his first taste of absinthe and the green fairy goes flying off the bottle and all around…_not that_. I used Wolfsbane Potion to the usual effect, which let me have some company whenever I went furry, and I also used some Invisibility Potions to get out of the house. There are some very good bars in downtown Pittsburgh, did you know? I finally found a wizarding karaoke bar I liked, and it was there that I got my first taste of alcohol.

Well, not the _first_, but a half-glass of wine at fancy dinners and champagne at parties doesn't really count.

Okay, I got my first taste of being drunk.

_Green fairies everywhere._

Werewolves don't react to alcohol normally, you know. We just feel very relaxed and our drunken alter-egoes take over for a little while. Mine is a bit like Jim Morrison. I've also been told we become more attractive, especially when we sing drunk, but that may also be because alcohol's effects as –how can I say this tastefully- promiscuity elixir? Well, those are magnified. A lot. Fortunately for me and my probable descendants, it lasts about an eighth of the time normal Muggle or wizards' drunkenness does, so by the time I got the leather pants unzippered-

Nevermind! Anecdote over! Mental picture off! Return your tray table to the upright position!

Oh, that was _not_ a nice little metaphor…

Okay, I got laced a lot. It happens. I was dancing on the border between alcoholism and death when Theodoric showed up and literally put me headfirst in a rain barrel. 

Did I mention werewolves are _real_ mean drunks?

After I fought him in the alley awhile, sort of like the Cowardly Lion in 'The Wizard of Oz' only sillier, this person who was with him put a hand on my shoulder and everything below my ribs went into reverse. I shall likely never need an appendectomy. I was profoundly and violently sick for about ten minutes, while Theo and Dumbledore chatted about what I had been singing when they bodily dragged me out of the bar, cheerful as you please, nevermind I was throwing up my grade-school education in the alleyway-

Oh, of _course_ it was Dumbledore! Who else got the brass balls to have Theodoric haul me out like that? 

_Besides_ Professor Snape, I mean.

Well, after I got decently sobered up and the situation explained in glorious Technicolor to my foster parents (who _wept_ when they found out I was leaving, ha ha ha,) Dumbledore plunked me on a broom to England and off I went. It was glorious! We saw dolphins and icebergs, and landed on this big one and went skating, and chatted about Quidditch and politics and theatre and what I was going to do-

You know Dumbledore. The trip across was loads of fun.

And then no sooner had I landed when I met Julie and Malfoy and Uncle Ron. Theodoric and I cut a deal that I'd keep quiet about knowing him around his cousin. And then I got Sorted –_scariest moment of my life!_ I was petrified I'd get put in Slytherin. Malfoy family stories don't get any better across the Pond. But I got Gryffindor, which was nice, because like all wizarding kids I know who Harry Potter is… 

That's another weird thing. My foster parents took me to see a whole load of animated films 'bout him, and I always thought the other part of the story more interesting. You know the one I mean, with the dark, brooding, ever-so-Alan Rickmanish professor-spy and the gifted but secretly extremely brave seventh-year…Well, 'My Fair Lady' was my favorite movie, too. The fact that my best friend resulted from that little chunk of wizard history is neither here nor there. It's dead romantic! And of course, my mum's journal of the two years before I was born had a lot to do with Professor Snape. It was like I already sort of knew them by stories and anecdotes, like they were actually my relatives. I mean, your mum and dad make friends with somebody well enough to consider naming you after the one of them –did I mention that? Well, that's what it was like coming to Hogwarts and meeting my permanent foster-folks. 

And on top of it all, I met Donaghan…'

She couldn't think of anything to add to the assignment. So she left the quill where it was, having wanted to continue her homework to get her mind off things.

Jen kissed her.

Well, she could always find something inappropriate on TV, or draw pictures of funny things and leave them in Chloe's trunk for her to find. Or maybe she'd use the quill to write a note to Donaghan-

Oh, nice thought, that! She could just see the letter:

'Dearest,  
Jen snogged me today. Do you think I'm-'

She couldn't even think the question jokingly. The idea of another female person fancying her was just so off the tracks…it wasn't like it hadn't happened before.

Mitchie stood up and gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Gods. Apart from the jeans being flares and the shirt being tight, you could not tell her clothes from some of the guys' she knew. No damn wonder Jen thought she was up for it. 

A sound behind her made the werewolf spin around.

"Donaghan! What are you-?"

"Shh…s'alright."

The Scot closed her in his arms, comforting wounded spirits and reassuring her –but not quite.

"Donaghan…something happened just now…"

She couldn't say it.

"With Jen? I saw, m'love. It's ar'right."

"Then you know…"

"I know she mus' fancy yeh, yeah…unless she were jus' tryin' ter' throw y' one."

"She wasn't…Donaghan, do I look…?"

The Scot kissed his girlfriend long and properly.

"It's not a question o' lookin' like what y'd prefer…it's a question o' y're bein' beautiful."

"So you don't think I'm…gay?"

Donaghan kissed her again and ran his hands up and down her back.

"Would y' be pressin' agains' me like this if'n y' were?"

"Well, there's bi, too…"

"Tha' jus' means y'don' mind who y' fall i'love with. An' I kna' y' like me, so right now I guess y're straight."

Mitchie's eyes darkened slightly and she put a hand to the back of his neck.

"Let me prove it?"

*********************************************************** 

A/N: One flame? One? I am so disappointed! I wanted to be raked over the coals for that! What's the fun of writing controversially if you're all a lot of liberals, too! And nobody even cared that Donaghan came out –well, a lot the way most guys I know would…anyhow! Couldn't you at least have had 'bad McNeville, no lesbians!' 

Or are you all a lot more grown-up than the rednecks I deal with here?

Oh, and sorry about the cliffie…got to go Do Research…or else just snog the semi-Scot I've been dating…

-Jan McNeville, Non-Professional Tripemonger

* * *


	61. Comforts

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            A/N: Am I the only person who thinks the removal of NC-17 will merely devalue the R to the point where it also needs to be removed? Would that not, in effect, eventually result in G rated smut? Why not merely state to all who complained that the NC-17 stuff could only be seen if you clicked 'Yes' in the pop-up box, which in effect, removes the right to complain if you are underage and saw it?   
My little soapbox speech concluded, I started the prequel to this. Finally. This chapter is a bit out of the ordinary, and there's a new character who will likely surprise everyone but my dear editor. Two, in fact. Also, as I had announced in the last chapter's a/n that I had a new kitten, that statement is no longer accurate. I now have five. It started with Boots, and then we got Alex and Shadoe, and then I brought Charlie and Pyewacket home as well. They are darling and would be lovely if they didn't all insist on falling asleep on me in a great herd whenever I lay down. Anyway, here you go.

Chapter Sixty-One: Comforts

"Victim of love, I see a broken heart. I could be wrong, but I'm not. Victim of love, it's such an easy part. Tell me, what kind of love have you got?"  
            -The Eagles

"Dare I even ask what went on in here?" Chloe remarked, setting down her shopping bags.

 There were discarded bits of clothing everywhere, some even torn, and Mitchie looked as if she'd just been very unpleasantly pulled out of a comfy nap. Her hair had been alarming in its normal state, now it was disheveled and looked like a rogue pillow had attacked her. The fact that she was wearing little besides a hastily pulled on bathrobe made it look even more amusing.

"Let me guess, the bad clothes were attacking and you slew them?" Julie asked, holding up a bra that looked remarkably like it had been chewed off. 

"Mm-mumph grr niff tid," Mitchie mumbled, pulling her flared jeans on before stopping and locating some underwear. It also looked like it had been chewed off. With a look somewhere between blushing and looking disturbed, she went into her closet and emerged part-clothed. "It's a long and entirely odd story. Why don't you go get some munchies at the salad-bar place? I'm starving."

"You? Salad?" Chloe now fixed her friend with a look of suspicion. "What exactly were you doing a while ago?"

"I…it's a long story."

"Do tell," Julie invited, sitting down on the bed with a bounce, a muffled 'erf' coming from the mattress. 

"Naw, really, it's very not-interesting. Lemme get this mess cleaned up, I'll be out in a tick."

"If I wasn't constantly appalled by your fashion sense anyway," Chloe ranted, picking up and then dropping a garment in shock. "What in the name of all that's good and sacred are _those?"_

"What?" Julie asked, picking the garment up. "Oh. Boxer shorts with little brooms on them. Guys wear- Michelle!"

"What?" Mitchie tried her damnedest to look innocent. "American chicks wear them, too…sometimes."

"Then why are they two sizes too big for you?"

"I –er, sleep in them. Comfyness."

"Oh. Okay. You gave me a fright there for a moment." Julie flopped down on the bed, again causing the mattress to make a weird noise. "What was that?"

"I was going to complain next time the maid came in, those bedsprings really do make a damn odd noise." Mitchie carefully kicked the boxers underneath the bed in question. Chloe bent down to look under it and she stopped her. 

"Don't tell me there's a boggart under there," the French girl remarked sarcastically. "Has it even got springs in it?"

"Yes. I checked." Mitchie stepped in front of Chloe to prevent her looking. "What-all did you buy on the shopping trip?"

"You want to know about clothes and stuff?" 

"I've got to agree, Mitch, you're acting like…naw, Chloe, she'd never cheat on Donaghan."

"I'm not so certain. Why are there clothes all over hell's half-acre, then?"

"Because I was looking for my stuffed dog, okay? I sleep with Barkley every night and I couldn't find him."

"He's right on your bed where he always is." Julie held up the battered stuffed animal. 

"He is _now."_

"And where did this man's shirt come from?" Chloe inquired. And it's got 'D. McP.' on the tag, no less."

"I sort of borrowed it from him before I left, you know, in case I got lonesome?" Mitchie attempted to cover her tracks.

"Then why's it still-" Julie sniffed the shirt, "-smell like him?"

"Because I enchanted it to."

"No offense, Mitch, but you've really got it bad. I bet the boxers are his, too."

"What if they are?"

"How many of _your_ clothes has _he_ borrowed?" Chloe asked mischievously, relishing as her werewolf friend went crimson. "Fancy him frolicking about in one of her vintage-rock t-shirts."

"Or bras."

"Julie!"

"Or perhaps some of those tight little flares. He could open a butterbeer with that fine ass."

"Chloe!" Mitchie howled in agony, going almost violet at the remark. 

"He does have a nice rear deflector, Mitch. Admit it."

"Both of you! This is not- _doesn't_ he, though?"

"Yummy," Julie agreed.

The mattress suddenly began to cough.

"Gah!" Chloe leapt almost into Julie's arms as they both flattened themselves against the far wall, startled and terrified. Mitchie went as red as was humanly possible and helped Donaghan out from under the bed. He was wearing nothing but the boxers and one of her more outlandish t-shirts. There was a second or two of shocked silence, and then the storm began. Julie started laughing hysterically. Chloe abruptly turned into a small, blond Professor McGonagall and looked earnestly about to give them a sermon neither miscreant would ever forget when the humor of the situation hit her French side and she cracked up as well.

"You guys," Mitchie began, trying hard to salvage what was left of severely bruised dignity. Then Donaghan grinned at her and she wound up kissing him. A few moments passed, with Chloe and Julie feeling remarkably like third and fourth wheels on a motorbike going from zero to sixty quite rapidly.

"Let's leave them alone," Julie suggested, sotto voce, to Chloe. Mitchie's hand slipped down to squeeze the 'yummy' region suggestively, eliciting a soft growl. "Now."

****************************************************** 

"You don't suppose they-?" Chloe inquired as soon as they were outside. 

"They might've. Do _you_ really want to ask?"

"Can't you?"

"I don't really care to know. It's their –business, and if they feel like extracurricular activity, more power to the wolves."

"Aren't you the slightest bit curious?"

"Terribly. But I don't want to make Mitch uncomfortable, nor do I really want her gift for description used on the subject at hand."

"I would. I'm desperate for details."

"You want to know exactly what the Quidditch captain of Gryffindor does in bed?"

"Okay, maybe not those kind of details…a simple scale of one-to-ten rating and minor points of how-to and whether it makes you nervous as hell or not."

"I'd imagine it does...unless you're drunk or really certain that you want to."

"Or randy as a ferret."

"Ferrets aren't randy."

"Even when you go prancing about in that patchy shirt?"

"Chloe! I'm not shagging him!"

"Why the bugger not?"

"Because my dad would have him slaughtered and I'm sixteen!"

"I'm _twelve_ and I sort of want to."

"Paws off," was Julie's stock reply.

"Not him. Aldous."

"Oh. Really?"

"I'm curious."

"No offense, Chloe, but that's a pretty sodding reason."

"Why'd you kiss Malfoy the first time?"

"Because he was cute."

"I thought that you two'd both been curious."

"Mainly because he was cute, though."

Chloe sighed heavily.

"But you can understand why I want to, right? I mean, I might never get another opportunity."

"But you're blond," Julie joked, not wanting any fatalism until lunch at least. 

"You know what I mean. If fighting breaks out and some of us get hit..."

"Do you honestly think the American Aurory would let us die?"

"Julie, it's the _Yanks_."

"Ah resent that," a soft voice drawled from just behind Julie. It belonged to a tall young man with a tawny, lionish ponytail and piercing blue-granite eyes. The beginnings of a fairly roguish goatee and moustache were closer to a reddish shade. "The Yanks run the gov'ement, but _we_ run the fightin' 'round heah, y'know." Listening to his Southern accent was having a disastrous effect on the two girls' knees. "Y'all mus' be Chloe an' Julie...I'm Theuh."

"Theuh?" Chloe asked, having never heard that name.

"Shawt fo' Theodoric, ma cherie."

**************************************************************** 

"I love yeh, Mitch," Donaghan reminded her.

"And I love you...good thing, too, or we'd both be stuck."

"Stuck?"

"To people we don't love for our entire life spans."

"Life spans, m'love?" The Scot looked at her oddly, a bit amused. "Yeh sound like Grandfather talkin' bout his collies." Very gently, he moved the hair aside from her neck and kissed the sensitive spot below her ear. "I read yehr assignment while yeh slept, an' the section on werewolves y'did for our textbook."

"Really? Did you like 'em?"

"Dear, yeh're human." 

"I'm _what? _-What do you mean?" Mitchie turned to face him confusedly.

"Michelle, yeh base yehr entire self-definition on the fact that yeh're a werewolf. An' so yeh are. But yeh're a human, a dear woman, an' my lover."

"I know I'm _basically_ human...you consider me a woman? Not more a girl?"

"A _young_ woman if yeh insist on bein' technical. But yeh aren't unnatural for bein' a werewolf as well, na' more than yeh're unnatural for bein' a witch. I don' want yeh thinkin' the way I was thinkin' when I firs' got bit forever."

"You think I'm depressed?"

"A bit."

"Donaghan, I've been away from you for nearly a month! It's like not having oxygen! I missed you so much, and I've been so scared with things getting delayed so much for no reason...I think I've been more desperate than depressed."

"Well, they've both got an 's' in them." Donaghan kissed her gently and then again, longer and more physically than before. "If we weren't werewolves, would you still want me forever?"

"I've wanted someone to share my life with since my life began."

"If I wasn't a werewolf an' yeh were, would yeh-"

"Donaghan, if you were and _I_ wasn't, I'd still want you."

"You've got me, darlin'," Donaghan promised, folding her hand with his so their fingers meshed. The gold ring he had given her was evident and she glanced at their joined hands.

"I was just wondering..."

"What I meant by this?" She nodded and Donaghan suddenly got up. Very abruptly he took his hand from hers and removed the ring, then went over and into the bathroom. Mitchie pulled her t-shirt on and almost went to follow him, heart in pieces by the shock of his departure. She should never have questioned his intentions. What would happen now? Sitting on the edge of the bed, she fought not to cry.

Donaghan returned in his boxers and stood directly in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

Oddly enough, he was on his knees.

"Michelle Isolde Tyler, dearest one, my lover and my Life, will you marry me?"

For a moment she didn't know what to say.

**************************************************************** 

It was close to six o'clock and the winter sun was just fading behind the trees and kudzu of New Orleans. Jen put her bass into its case and clasped the lid shut. She leaned it neatly against the wall and carefully repacked her bags. She had several vials of the Tegretolus and one smaller one of another potion, all of which she lined up just as carefully on the nightstand. Finally she took off the clothes she had been wearing, leaving only her bra and the sort of skimpy underwear, which was all she owned.

Her first impulse had been to use her straight razor. The idea of bleeding to death sounded correct, symbolically draining her of everything evil and wrong she had had within or had done to her. But then today, after her mistake with the werewolf, she realized what such a dramatic end would do to the friends she was leaving. So Jen took a leaf out of her grandmother's book and acquired a small but suitable quantity of poison. It was tasteless and odorless, and would merely look as if a seizure in her sleep had caused her to suffocate. 

Sometimes Lyff was still incredibly convenient.

A voice in the hall outside called for someone, over and over at intervals. She couldn't quite make out the name, but knew it wasn't hers or anyone's she knew. Jen climbed under the covers and put her head on the pillow. She took the tiny vial from the nightstand and turned around to remove the small cork.

A furry face stopped her in her tracks. She shrieked in terror.

"Shadduh!" the voice from the hallway cried. Theodoric strode across the room and picked up the fluffy gray creature. "You little rogue...beggin' your pardon, ma'am."

"Who –what is that?"

"M'cat, Shadduh. You mus' be Jennifer. I'm Theodoric, from the 'Merican Aurory."

Evidently Shadow found the vial in Jen's hand to be fascinating, because he leapt out of his owner's arms and back onto her bed to bat at the vial with a furry paw. Jen quickly moved away from the beast, exposing her bra in the process of this. 

"Ma'am!" Theodoric cried, covering her up and accidentally brushing her neck. "I'm sorry, Shadduh's usually a _gentleman_." 

"Oh...it's alright..." Jen glanced at the vial and hurriedly stashed it under a pillow. Theodoric made to go, still scolding the cat, before turning on his heel.

"Ah would be belyin' muh true nature if'n Ah didn' ask jes' what that vial was."

"And what _is_ your true nature, Mr. Theodoric?" Jen asked, terrified and indignant at the same time. "Surely a southern _gentleman_ like yourself doesn't come bursting into girls' rooms."

"Ah never said _Ah_ was a gentleman, Miss Blodgett," Theo pointed out. "Jes' indulge my fiendish curiosity; is that cold medicine, sleeping drought, or poison?"

"What do you care?" she spat, clutching the bedcovers to her neck. 

"Accio vial!" he called, summoning it to his hand. Jen watched in horror as he uncorked it and sniffed the contents. "Ah don't smell sleepin' drought, so Ah'm goin' to taste the stuff. Any objection?"

"Give it back or I'll-" Jen threatened.

"Your wand's across the room, Jennifer," Theo reminded gently, his voice almost a caress. Effortlessly he tipped the entire contents of the vial down his throat.

"No!" 

Jen leapt out of the bed and fought him for the vial, seizing it and trying to drink it, but not even a drop remained. Wildly, she leaned over and kissed Theodoric, trying desperately to die if she couldn't save his life. He caught her wrists and returned the kiss in surprise, then held her head against his shoulder as she sobbed. "But- but you're poisoned!" she cried, looking at him in surprise a few moments later as he still stood strong.

"Funny thing, Miss Blodgett... Ah have a cousin from England who once recommended Ah build up a tolerance to iocaine poisons." Theodoric wiped a stray tear as it raced down her cheek. "You wouldn't by any chance tell me why you had it, or why Shadduh stopped you from leavin' your friends?"

"I...there's too much..." 

And Jen started to sob again. 

"Shh," the almost-stranger comforted. 

"I don't want to talk about it."

"As you wish."

A knock at the door made Jen and the Southerner fly apart._ "Solacio,"_ Theo whispered, drying Jen's tears. The door opened and two red-haired werewolves entered.

"We heard a scream," Mitchie explained, before recognizing the young man with an expression of intense surprise.

"Why, Mitchie Tyluh," Theodoric greeted, a laconic Malfoyish grin starting at the left corner of his mouth. "You look like someone jes' walked over your grave."

**************************************************************** 

A/N: Alright, there are three separate film references hidden in this chapter. Special thanks goes to my third kitten, His Royal Highness Shadoe Lintball of Pickfair East, for attacking my Diet Coke can mid-slurp and inspiring me.   
-J. McN.


	62. Every Good Boy Deserves Favor

A/N: My kittens have decided it is acceptable to leap up onto my lap and demand bites of whatever it is I'm eating at dinnertime. They mew very politely and wait their turns for the most part, and as darling as they are, it's hard to refuse. I am considering writing a book on my Incredible Cat Diet. One must either reduce one's portion size by sharing with the kitties or eat cereal for meals, since only Shadoe eats Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I'm already too small for all but one pair of my jeans. (Of course, that may also be from being sick, growing taller, and getting regular exercise chasing the cats around. Who knows?)

Anyway, I do have a profoundly sober point to make in this author's note. It is about animals. My little gray kitten, Alex, fell and broke his hip. The bill for his surgery to repair it is exorbitant. Fortunately, we have some very dear friends who were able to help, and my father started a second job. The veterinarian told us that health insurance is available for pets, however, and information is available at www.petinsurance.com. I highly recommend you insure your animals. Also, microchipping is painless, guarantees your pet's safety, and only costs $40 for up to eight pets. We are having all five kitties and the bunny chipped as soon as they are old enough.

That said, (the _kitties_ are even mewing for me to get to the chapter,) here you go.

Chapter Sixty-Two: Every Good Boy Deserves Favor  
"I've been thinking 'bout our fortune, that the life that we are living is in vain, and the sunshine we've been waiting for, will turn to rain. And the sound we make together is the music to the story in your eyes. It's been shining down upon me now, I realize...Listen to the tide slowly turning, wash all our heartache away. We're part of the fire that is burning, and from the ashes we can build another day..."  
            -The Moody Blues, 1971

"Theodoric! What are you doing here?" Mitchie ran over and hugged her friend, kissing him on both cheeks.

"Representin' the 'Merican Aurory."

"And hugging Jen," Donaghan observed quietly with a smile. Mitchie's bizarre way of greeting old friends sometimes startled him. It was a little like the way a collie might lick your face.

"Yes, Miss Jennifer and I were having a conversation." Theodoric said this with a certain look that Mitchie knew to mean 'this one needs my attention, get out of here.' Mitchie gave him a smile to affirm this and introduced him to her 'dearest Donaghan.' The werewolves were gone in another moment.

Jen watched the door shut and then sat disconsolately back on the bed. She was still in nothing but her bra and skimpy underwear.

"May I?" Theodoric inquired.

"Sure," Jen replied absently. She had no idea what he was talking about, as she wasn't looking up.  The next thing she knew, a warm and incredibly comforting coat had been placed over her shoulders. Theodoric was also sitting next to her in his shirt, and Shadow was curling up on her lap.

"If you're cold, I can get your robe or some clothes for you," the handsome blond offered. 

"No, thank you."

"Dare I ask where you came across iocaine?"

"It's a long story. I've had the vial a couple days."

"No wonder I can scarcely feel it, then. You were aware that that stuff can expire if you don't keep it cold, right?" 

Just listening to Theodoric's comforting, soft, Southern-accented tone was making Jen struggle not to cry. She had wanted to die and he had not only the nerve to stop her, but the kindness to not ask questions and console her.

He even sensed this before any tears could fall. Jen found herself being again held tightly against his warm chest, and his gray cat began to purr. It took several minutes of his petting her back gently and letting her sob for Jen to recover herself.

"I- I'm sorry, I-"

"Nothing to be sorry for, Jennifer. You don't mind if I use your first name, do you?"

"N-no." She had never been asked that by anyone other than a professor.

"Then you can call me Theodoric or Theuh...Look, Shadduh likes you." The gray cat was indeed rubbing his head against her stomach and purring loudly. Jen petted him and he meowed appreciatively. "I don't _expect_ you to want to talk about a few minutes ago...can you just tell me a little about yourself?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Well...where you're from, how old you are, if you don't mind, your favorite class at school?"

"I'm from England, I'm sixteen, and I like Muggle Studies and Potions best."

"Oh." Theo handed her a small squarish tidbit, which Shadow graciously ate from her hand, purring. "I'm from near Richmond, Virginia, I'm twenty, and I also like Muggle Studies and Potions best."

"Really?" Jen asked sarcastically, before she could stop herself.

"Sure. In fact, I took six months off and lived with Muggles once. And I've loved Potions ever since...well, I had this friend who was a werewolf, and I made Wolfsbane Potion for her with a friend."

"I have a really nice Potions professor at Hogwarts."

"My cousin went there. What House were you in?"

"First Slytherin, but now I'm a Gryffindor."

"They don't have Houses in most American schools. I'm guessing I'd either be a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw."

"Not a Gryffindor?"

"Lord, no. I'm _scared_ of heights." Jen smiled at the open way he admitted this. "Anything you just can't stand that way?"

Something about his manner convinced her to admit her little secret:

"This is going to sound really insane, but...being held upside-down. My cousin told me my brains would run out my ears when I was quite little."

"Mine –well, one of them, the one from England, he once told me that hitting a woman is admitting you lack- well, nevermind." Jen was astonished and giggled aloud at this. "Draco always went in for chivalry."

"At least your cousin gave you useful advice. Girls are liable to hit back- _Draco?"_

"Yes, Draco Malfoy. I believe he's on this mission with you." Theodoric didn't seem to think this was any big deal, so Jen left it at that. "I wish more of them had the nerve and the training to. Why, I remember teaching my friend Mitchie to box when she was thirteen."

"You're Mitchie's friend?"

"She's like my sister, yeah."

"But I thought you said you came from Virginia-?"

"I do. I transferred to the Morrison Academy for the Muggle Studies curriculum."

"Oh."

"Do you have a familiar?"

"No...I always meant to get one, but none of the ones I wanted agreed with my cousin's owl."

"Well, do you like cats?"

"I love them!" Jen responded enthusiastically.

"Well, I know a good place to get kittens. Want to go down sometime and have a look?"

"I...I'd love to."

"Seems cats like you." Shadow continued to purr.

************************************************************************** 

Another month passed beautifully within the walls of Hogwarts. Outside, the weather was a pure and simple wreck, and Hagrid was forced to move his latest acquisition indoors. 

"Couldn't you just keep him in your house?" 

"She's a girl, Severus, an' she doesn' like my 'ouse. Besides, look 'ow little A.J. likes 'er."

A.J. had achieved the magnificent height of twenty-six inches and learnt to crawl. He still only weighed about fourteen pounds, and was the most slender baby his grandmother had ever seen. Severus was currently very happy his son had Muggle grandparents, as their orthodontically correct pacifiers and refrigeratable teething ring guaranteed an unterrupted class when A.J. observed. 

Hagrid's fluffy pliquash was currently squeaking happily as A.J. petted her. A pliquash has no bones and a great amount of pinkish fur, and they require a symbiote to pet them and squish them in order to digest. In the wild, small monkeys often did this, but with the decline of certain species the pliquash was nearing extinction. The monkeys often ate the pliquash's fleas, but since Hagrid insisted on a flea bath, A.J. petted her from sheer liking to. 

"If so much as one jungle flea bites my son," Severus warned.

"Rosemary's not got fleas anymore!"

"Ee-ee!" A.J. cried ecstatically. That was his pronunciation of Rosemary. The pliquash had inflated herself to a furry puffball shape and was being rolled around the playpen by a very happy baby. It was the only way pliquashi moved. "Ee-ee!"

"I suppose if the creature makes him happy," Severus sighed.

"Come on, Severus, didn' yeh ever have a pet when yeh were a kid?"

"Yes...I had a quetzal."

"One of them talkin' feather-snakes?"

"Yes. She was wonderfully intelligent. If A.J. wouldn't be such a bore to one, I'd look into it."

"I think he should keep Rosemary fer 'is firs' pet."

"Do you suppose she minds him?"

"Listen to 'er squeak. She's a very 'appy girl in there."

"I'll have to ask Hermione what she thinks."

"About what, dear?" Hermione had neatly appeared in the doorway with a book in her hand. 

"This," Severus pointed to the pliquash. "Hagrid thinks it-"

"She,"

"-can be A.J.'s first pet."

"Why not? They seem to like one each other, dear." She bent near the playpen and ruffled her son's brown hair. "Doesn't the boy? Don't you love your pliquash?"

"Ee-ee!" A.J. agreed shrilly. Severus also bent down and smiled softly at his son. "Da-da," A.J. pronounced with as much conviction as a baby could. "Da-da."

"Did he just-?" Severus asked Hagrid and Hermione in wonder. 

"Yes, darling, he did."

"Da-da!"

And Severus picked him up. With what looked to Hermione almost like unshed tears, he held his little son close and grinned. Hagrid was openly crying now.

"His firs' proper word! An' clear as a bell!"

"Oh, no, Hagrid, it's not his first," Severus explained. "He said 'Julie' almost a week ago."

"I want 'er and the other 'uns to come home."

"We all do, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall pointed out, bringing her copy of Donaghan's textbook. "At least we don't have to worry that the girls will get behind in their classes now."

"And according to Julie's latest letter, nothing dangerous has happened in the whole time that they've been there."

"Hermione, do you trust Julie to let you know if they're in danger?" Minerva asked.

"Of course not. She wouldn't want to worry me."

"Donaghan and I have an agreement. He writes us what's going on," Severus announced.

"And what are you blackmailing that boy with?"

"Nothing, Minerva."

"Severus," Hermione raised her eyebrow at him.

"We have an agreement. He tells me the honest truth in case Julie's sparing us, and I permit him to see Michelle."

"How utterly paternal of you, Severus." Minerva smiled derisively. "I shudder to think what will happen when A.J. discovers the opposite sex."

"My  son will be raised as a gentleman."

"I get the distinct impression Donaghan was as well."

"Yes, he was. It's Michelle I don't want to put much trust in."

"Aw, na', Severus! Mitchie an' Julie are trus'worthy."

"That they may be when it comes to your animals, Hagrid, but they _are_ teenage girls."

"And we all know how dangerous _they_ can be," Hermione joked, convulsing everyone else.

********************************************************************

"I have had enough of this waiting around!" Chloe announced. "We are going to the zoo!"

"The zoo?" Mitchie asked.

"Yes, the New Orleans Zoo. I want to see elephants."

"Are there flamingoes?" Malfoy asked absently. 

"Why the zoo all of a sudden, Chlo'?" Julie asked.

"Because I've only been to the Muggle one in France and I want to see elephants."

"Okay..."

It seemed like a most unusual whim, but Chloe had been subject to whims lately. Even Theodoric was bored after almost a month with no action or sign of de Diablo.

"Alright, but we have to see penguins, too," the Southerner bargained.

"And wolves," Mitchie and Donaghan added in unison.

"Tigers," Jen suggested.

"And baby polar bears!" Sometimes Uncle Ron was still childish. "What? I heard on the wireless that they have some."

Not two hours later, the entire British corps of the mission was happily munching cotton candy and watching the Siberian snow tigers. Mitchie and Theodoric were discussing something a cage or two away, which must have been desperately important judging by their solemn manner.

"You love him?"

"Of course I do!"

"Can you imagine your life without him, Mitchie?"

"Never!"

"Mitchie, if your parents were here, do you think they'd approve of him?"

There was a pause. Mitchie started silently to cry.

"Yes, I think they would."

"Then marry him, darlin'." Theodoric hugged her close. "I don't suppose you'll be havin' kids early."

"No, we want to wait until we're much older. Want to be a godfather?"

"I think I'd like that."

"How are things with Jen?"

Theodoric suddenly looked enraged.

"What did they _do_ to her back there?"

"I've never gotten all of it out of her."

"Do you think she trusts me enough yet to tell?"

"She doesn't even trust _Julie_ enough yet."

"I think she's been abused."

"I told you her boyfriend beat her up."

"Past that."

"You mean, like-"

"I think she was being used by those limey bastards."

"I wouldn't put it past the pricks."

"God _damn_ worthless Slytherins," Theodoric swore. "Sometimes that disillusions girls away from men, y'know, which would explain why she fancied you."

"Hey, guys," Jen greeted. "What's goin' on?"

"Lions," Mitchie pointed out. "Like the Griffie one."

"We've been looking at the white tigers, they seem to be mating."

"Neat!" Mitchie cried.

"I felt you might think so. Donaghan wants you, by the way."

"In the middle of the zoo?" Theodoric asked jokingly. Mitchie gave him a small smack upside the head and left. "So...what's going on?"

"Well...this sticky sweet's quite nice." Jen tore off some cotton candy and fed it to him. "Hold on, you've got some on your moustache." She tried to unstick it with her thumb, then stopped suddenly, as Theodoric bent and kissed her. Jen leaned into the kiss fully as his hands pressed gently against her back. In a breath it was over, almost the chastest kiss she'd ever had. 

"Are you alright with this?" Theo asked quietly.

"Yes," Jen whispered, leaning close for another kiss just before he stopped her.

"You don't need mindless lust. You need affection." She looked at him strangely for a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around her in a quiet, warm hug. "What do you want most in a relationship? –be honest."

"I...I want...I don't know what."

"How about someone to hold your hand and cuddle you for a start? Someone who'll read Muggle books with you and brush your hair when you're tired?"

"You just want to help me because I was trying to poison myself."

"No, I want to comfort you because I like you and because you need comforting. If I hold your hand, you'll hold mine and you can cuddle me back. We can read any books you want. If I brush your hair, will you scratch my back?"

"Yes."

"Everything between the two of us will be even. I don't want to use you and I won't let you use me to hurt yourself."

Jen looked angry at him for a moment. The nerve of him! Then Theo kissed her again and she seemed to calm down.

"Would you kiss me again?" she asked quietly.

************************************************************************* 

Hermione rolled over in her sleep, only to be gently kissed awake by her husband.

"Mmm...good morning, Severus."

"Dear, have you forgotten what day this is?" he inquired sternly.

"No, it's Wednesday. NEWTs aren't for another month."

"I'm not referring to the NEWTs, Miss Granger."

"Oh, _that_ day..."

"Yes. Another anniversary." Again he kissed her, this time lifting her onto him like a blanket. "Seventeen years since our first kiss, m'love."

"I think it may be the most wonderful seventeen years I've had."

"I know they have been for me."

"Severus, are you still happy?"

"Incredibly." It was remarkable how perfectly designed she was to fit on top of him. "You gave me my children and my reason to live again. I wasn't intending on surviving the last battle."

"I only wish I had known we had Julie."

"So do I, dear, but I think it may yet work out for the best."

"Severus, I'm tired of this mission in America. They've made no progress and I want my babies back."

"I've been wondering when that would become plural. We could adopt Michelle, couldn't we?"

"Instead of just keeping her as our foster-child?"

"Yeah. I think John and Cass would want it this way. They always loved you."

"They loved you, too, dear. Remember how John wanted to call their first boy 'Severus'?"

"I remember the day you were found. Cass broke three Ministry ordinances and committed two Muggle felonies making sure I'd be the first to know."

"However did she manage to do that?"

"She disobeyed a superior, stole a broom, and used the full Body-Bind on Alastor Moody when he tried to stop her leaving. Next she stole a car and broke the speed limit by eighty-five miles when the Auror Office broom stalled. In fact, I think she did something to make the car go faster, but Arthur Weasley must have let her off for that."

"I had no idea!"

"Cass was also some five months pregnant at the time. Moody suspended her for six months and timed it to coincide with maternity leave."

"So he didn't punish her at all!"

"Basically. Paranoid or not, the man has some decency."

"Now I see where Mitchie gets that iron nerve of hers."

"One of the only things I regret about not knowing we had Julie is that she never knew the Tylers. I also think we might have named her differently."

"It's kind of remarkable how well it worked out between she and Mitchie, though. They're just about inseparable, aren't they?"

"So you think they'll like the idea?"

"Absolutely, dear. Just don't make Mitchie change her name."

"Of course not." Severus ran his fingers down Hermione's back. "What kind of a 'snarky git' do you think I am?"

"Oh...the deliciously shaggable and secretly darling sort."

************************************************************************** 

Fire rained down amidst the twisted iron gates of the New Orleans Zoo. Glass walls of cages had been shattered and steel bars bent like the thinnest of wires. The animals had mostly fled the scene, but the occasional sound of roars and growls still echoed.

Most of the visitors had either fled or been cursed and then rounded up. Many had merely been stabbed to death by de Diablo's followers and several had been killed magically. Bodies of the dead, dying, and wounded lay all around. There were even many dead animals.

Santa Anna de Diablo surveyed the scene from his perch. The pole bearing the American flag had been bent in half so the banner was dipped in blood; and on the silver bar now stood the Dark wizard. A terrible, rasping laugh echoed through the wrecked zoo.

His only opposition picked up their wand and rose to stand boldly amid the death.

************************************************************************** 

A/N: Cliffie alert! (It was Boots' idea.)


	63. Fire

Chapter Sixty-Three: Fire

Forty-six years old with a five-year-old child. It didn't help that Christine looked older than her years and nothing like her daughter. Her life had not been easy, and neither had Gloria's. The little girl's biological mother had been a cocaine addict and God knew what else, abandoning her tiny, beautiful premature baby in the hospital where Christine was chief resident. Christine had wanted children since her own childhood, but a series of medical misfortunes and genetic problems had forever closed that door to her. Her husband of two years had divorced her for this when she was twenty-four. Christine's response was to pour all of her anger and frustration with the world into medical school and then her hospital, making advances and elevating herself bodily through the glass ceiling up to the top. 

One rainy day in December a few years ago, one of her med students had asked that she come downstairs. Being chief resident was an impressive thing, especially when one was as revered and even feared as Christine was. Interns scurried out of her way like mice and doctors seemed to be bowing and scraping as Jacquie the med student led her on purposefully.

Lying in a clear hospital bassinet, with enough wires and tubes coming out of her for her to be some kind of wee cyborg, was the tiniest, dearest baby Christine had ever seen. As small as the bassinet was, it seemed that five such babies could have fit in it.

"My first delivery," Jacquie announced proudly and sadly at the same time, idly twirling the polished wooden stick she insisted on carrying. "Two and a half pounds exactly, and her mother's gone." Christine could hardly find a patch of the wee one's skin not covered with wires to press her stethoscope against. "BP's well under seventy, heart rate's steady since we got her on oxygen, and she's opened her eyes twice."

"Brain monitor?"

"Everything seems alright."

"And I'm here why?"

Jacquie managed to look terribly offended.

"Your student of three years wants to show her mentor her first delivery? Someone wants the opinion of the great Christine Montgomery as to whether this little girl can survive? God, you're a bitch sometimes!"

"What was that?"

Jacquie stepped back.

"I'm sorry."

"No, that noise!" Christine bent over the bassinet. The tiny baby had her eyes open. She made the little sad hopeless noise again. She wasn't even strong enough to cry, just make that short gasp of pure defeat. In that moment, Christine knew she had to keep this baby alive. 

Jacquie picked up the guitar that was sitting on a chair and began to play 'Angels We Have Heard On High,' singing softly to the baby. Almost immediately the little girl calmed down. "When does your shift end, Jaq?"

"Ended three hours ago. I've got the entire weekend off." The student continued to play for her little audience of one.

"What's her name?"

"Officially, Baby Doe. The usual anonymous." Jacquie grinned broadly for a second. "But I know what having no name does to preemies here. I've been calling her Gloria."

"Has she been put on the adoption list yet?"

"Not yet. They aren't giving her good odds. Anyone who wants her, though, can have her." 

There was a very heavy silence between the two of them for a moment. Then Jacquie turned back to Gloria and started to play again.

"I want her. I'm going to check on it." Christine left to go seek out the hospital's legal officer. Jacquie bent over the bassinet and gave Gloria a high-five with her thumb.

"Well done, Glory. You've got your mum."

In five years, Gloria had grown into a beautiful child. Christine had never been prouder of anything. The little girl had beautiful deep brown eyes and dark raven hair, a stark contrast to Christine's own graying blond and sharp blue eyes. Everyone at the private kindergarten Gloria attended knew not to pick on the fact that she was adopted, as 'Aunt Jacquie' had taught her long ago what to say to that:

"My mommy _chose_ me. Your mom got _stuck_ with you."

Gloria was wonderfully gifted, reading and writing at the age of three. This year for Christmas, Jacquie had sent books, as usual, and that had abruptly changed Christine's weekends. Gloria had taken up the adult's copy of the 'Collected Works of John James Audubon' (no _children's_ book was good enough for Glory in Jacquie's eyes,) with profound fervor, memorizing every bird and animal's Latin and English names. 

They were at the zoo when the attack came. 

****************************************************************** 

Chloe's arm was broken, Julie could tell that much. Passed out, the little French girl was now in Donaghan's arms, despite the t-shirt-bandaged wound on his head that had blood running into his eyes. They had been in the Aquatics building by the penguins when the glass wall exploded toward them and ceiling beams began to rain down. Chloe owed her life to Donaghan, who had shouldered the steel I-beam off her arm and carried her away to safety. Half of Mitchie's face was so sliced and cut with glass that she was near unrecognizable, and Julie suspected she might lose her left eye. Draco and Ron had run out to see what was going on at the first alarm, leaving them to the glass and beams alone, not knowing the attack would occur indoors.

Jen was gently cradling Theodoric. Her leg was bent at a funny angle and so was one of his. He had tried to shove her out of the way of a falling beam, only to have her pull him out of the reach of another. A third had caught them both a moment later, and Julie and Mitchie rolled it off the unconscious boy and hysterical girl. It had been half an hour since all this happened. Mitchie and Julie were the only ones still standing, although Julie's collarbone felt strange, possibly broken, and every inch of Mitchie's left side from face to arm was covered in blood and shards.

Donaghan held Chloe and weakly implored them to stay inside. Julie watched as Mitchie bent, told him something, and kissed him gently. Then she put her wand to his temple and knocked him unconscious with a spell. Slowly, maniacally, she stood and began to walk toward the gaping hole where the glass doors had been.

"It _don't_ mean a _thing_ if it ain't got that swing…do-what, do-what, _do-what DO-WHAT!"_

"Mitchie!" Julie raced to her friend's side and forced her to the ground. Mitchie gave her a fearsome grin, as insane as Lord Voldemort's, and continued to sing madly as they army-crawled out of the wreckage. Julie's collarbone felt like it was on fire.

"Why's it never light on my lawn? Why does it rain and never say good day to the new-born?"

"Mitchie, quiet!" Julie saw de Diablo climb the bent flagpole.

"Ever since I was a young boy, I played the silver ball. From Soho down to Brighton, I must have played 'em all…y'know the day destroys the night, night divides the day! Try to run, try to hide, _break on through to the other side!"_

Julie caught Mitchie by the shoulders and stopped her from rushing forth. Her friend looked at her wildly, questioningly. Just then they heard it, a scraping, satanic laugh that echoed through the wreckage of the Audubon Zoo. It was de Diablo.

His only opposition picked up their wands and rose to stand boldly amid the death.

Santa Anna almost fell off the bent flagpole. Two girls had just appeared out of nowhere. He had not been expecting that. One seemed almost two faced, so covered with blood was half of her. She stepped forward boldly, singing 'Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend' at the top of her lungs as menacingly as she could. Confusedly, de Diablo aimed a Killing Curse at her. 

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

She spun deftly out of the way, pointing at him with a sadistic grin.

"Cause _that's_ when those _louses_ go back to their spouses-!"

Diablo aimed again and missed. The other girl tried to disarm him and he turned on her.

"Meet your death, little girl!" he screamed in his harshly-accented voice. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Julie stood her ground, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the green light. Then something strange happened. The green light continued to surge from Diablo's wand, but it also seemed to gather in her hand as her scar glowed a brilliant emerald. Nothing had ever hurt so much in her life. Diablo looked at her in absolute astonishment.

"Meet yours," she managed to whisper, before throwing the ball of pure death with all her might.

Simultaneously, two bodies fell. One, dead, made a sickening squash into the ornamental shrubberies that surrounded the flagpole's base. The other, unconscious, landed in the bloody arms of Michelle Tyler.

*************************************************************** 

"Mama!" the little child sobbed. Draco administered one final healing charm and breathed a sigh of relief. "Mama!"

"She'll be alright, little one," the Auror promised. "She's just going to be asleep for awhile."

"Mama?" the little girl asked, feeling Christine's heart. "Oh, Mama!" She hugged the doctor's unconscious form, and then smiled tearfully at Draco. "Thank you, sir."

"N-no problem."

"What's your name?"

"Er –I can't tell you that. I –er, work for the government."

"Oh, so you're not an EMT. I wondered why you didn't have a uniform or a stethoscope."

"No, I'm not an- I'm just trying to help."

"My name is Gloria Montgomery. I'll tell you what," the little girl drew close to Draco conspiratorially. "I'll tell Mama it was our guardian angel. She won't believe me, but then, I'm only five."

"Uh, yes, I think that will do nicely."

"Thank you again, mister." And with that, Gloria covered her mother up with her coat, reciting the treatment for shock aloud to herself. Draco went off to see how Ron was doing. Gifted children never failed to startle the crumbs out of him.

Around the corner a few yards away, Ron had just failed to save a lone Muggle zookeeper. He was trying his best not to cry when Draco put an arm around him in a brotherly way.

"Hey, Uncle Ron, Draco," Mitchie greeted, staggering slightly under Julie's dead weight. "Dyablo's dead and the guys need a bit of patching up."

************************************************************** 

"What's _happened,_ Albus?" Minerva cried, kneeling near the fireplace where the Minister of Magic's head was floating. All she had heard on the Wizarding Wireless Network was that there had been a massacre in America involving Santa Anna de Diablo.

"De Diablo's been killed. He attacked a Muggle zoo when the children were there."

"My God…are they all okay?"

"Draco and Ron Weasley are alright. Chloe Davies has a broken arm and a concussion. Donaghan McPhersen has a slight head injury. Jennifer Blodgett and Theodoric Malfoy both have broken legs and Jen's in full post-traumatic shock. Aldous Howard was back at the hotel for the entire episode. He's fine."

"Julie and Michelle?" Severus asked tensely, holding a crying Hermione.

"Julia actually defeated de Diablo. She's unconscious and apart from what Michelle was able to tell us, we have no idea what happened to her or how she did it. Michelle has traumatic dementia and a great number of shrapnel wounds. From the two Muggle witnesses, it seems to have been the two of them who finally managed it. You can be very proud of your daughters, Severus."

"I'd rather see them alive than heroically dead, Albus!"

"Oh, I'd anticipated that. Harry Potter will fly you across the Atlantic and the American Aurory will Floo you to New Orleans from Philadelphia."

"Thank you, Albus," Hermione whispered.

"Don't worry. I know they will be alright in the end."

And with that, the Minister disappeared.

******************************************************************* 

A/N: Uh, Gwenivire…I always thought I smelled of kittens and spilled soda. Alex suggested not uploading this for a week. The kittens think that anticipation is good for readers. They also love reviews. I print them out, cut them apart, and let the little cats play with them. I also give some to my hamsters and gerbils. Thumper the Bunny actually eats them. I let him have flames to help his digestion.

So how'd I do with this chapter?

-Jan McNeville 


	64. The Family Business

A/N: Thank you for all of the lovely reviews and greetings to the cats. They purred loudly and batted them up into the air. Thumper also ate several. Silly bunny. Also, does anybody know whether Diet Coke is horribly bad for cats? Since Alex got hurt he's been staying close by my side, and while I was downstairs he knocked over and polished off the remains of a canful. He was very hyper for the rest of the evening and visited the litterbox frequently the next morning, but it still seems the little guy has developed a taste for it. Shadoe just likes batting the shiny cans, which I give him when they have been ceremonially emptied, but I worry about Alex. I just caught him with his little head in my glass, lapping at the Coke with his little pink tongue like- well, like a cat version of me. I wonder if I'm setting a bad example.

Here you go.

Chapter Sixty-Four: The Family Business

Jen was smiling.

This in itself was just a little bit of a miracle. She had had the bone in her leg mended, of course, but the tendons still required a day or so to heal, so she was in bed. It hurt a little bit, but only the sort of hurt one can easily ignore, like a sprained ankle when you've had six aspirin. Julie was still totally unconscious, so Jen wasn't entirely sure of what had happened. None of the witnesses were especially viable.

Mitchie had gone insane during the attack. Her wounds were for the most part repaired, so it merely looked as if she had a lot of raw scratches on her face and arm were the mediwizards had removed jagged spikes of glass. They would heal without scars, but the shard in her eye was more complicated, and like Julie a few months ago, she wore a patch over it underneath her glasses. Unfortunately, she was still insane, and Jen was having the strange experience of watching a beloved comrade with a form of battle dementia. Mitchie wasn't so much crazed as merely very cheerful and slightly incoherent, as the impact of what had happened wasn't registering with any magnitude. In her mind Julie's heroic defeat of de Diablo was just about as life-altering as a Quidditch game. 

She was also singing a lot. It seemed to make her feel better and always had, so Theodoric had cleverly gone out and acquired a small portable Muggle stereo for Jen, which, as he pointed out, she needed anyway, 'but you might as well have it about for Mitch until things sink in.'

Jen sighed contentedly. He was just so nice! His leg hadn't had half what was wrong with hers with it, and consequently he was up and about 'Auroring,' as Mitchie put it. 

The senior officers in the American Aurory, British Auror Office, Auroriè Français and even the German Aurorscheidt were naturally very pleased with the mission's success. Flowers seemed to fill Jen's room, and one vaseful was from the American wizarding President, Alden Feldman. Mitchie wasn't all too incredibly impressed by that until she examined the flowers and realized that saffron roses were not only remarkably good-smelling, but Jen's favorite. 

"It's rather reassuring to know that the leader of your native land goes to the trouble of knowing people's favorite flowers," she remarked. "It does, however, beg the question as to just _why_ the conservatives opposed him so. Most of those homophobic old ladies are gardeners." 

With the particular form of temporary insanity Mitchie suffered from, Jen noticed, her usual bluntness was magnified fivefold.

"I wonder what's in your room," Jen had said absently a moment later. Mitchie returned with a broad grin on her face and a thin filament protruding from her thumb.

"He sent me the cutest little cactus! I've always rather wanted one...get this out of my thumb for me?"

Jen laughed and pulled the needle out. Mitchie then proceeded to tell her in loving detail exactly why the Spice Girls would have made better leaders of Soviet Russia than Stalin or Gorbachev. Sometimes Jen had been very alarmed by the ridiculous things her werewolf friend wanted to casually discuss, but as the first day of her convalescence became the second, it seemed only as strange as Minister Dumbledore. That led her to wonder just how well he had recovered from defeating Grindelwald in 1945. She also wondered what Mitchie's favorite candy was and asked.

"Chocolate and crisp rice bars, naturally. How 'bout you?"

"I like Pepper Imps and hot cinnamon things, and sometimes Ice Mice."

"I know a Muggle thing you'd like."

And thus Jen had been introduced to Red Hots, Atomic Fire Balls, Cinnamon Altoids, ("Shocked you haven't had these already, Jen. And you call yourself English!") as well as a positively delicious array of dark red cinnamon chewing gums. 

"Mmm...I like Big Red a bit more than Dentyne."

"Everybody does. Dentyne's more to clean your teeth. Try some of these." Mitchie popped a chewy red capsule into Jen's mouth.

"Mmm! What are these?"

"Hot Tamales."

"I like 'em," Jen mumbled as she chewed at it. "Nicely gummy in chewing, with a deliciously sweet aftertaste. I'll give it a nine-point-eight."

Mitchie opened a second box.

"This is a newer sort, basically amounts to Ultra Hot Tamales." Each girl took one and they chewed meditatively. "Same traditional shape and consistency, less sweetness, but a lovely degree of improvement over the milder version. I'd say a nine-point-three."

"I'm liking it, but it loses something of the earlier version's charm with the aftertaste. Feels like an eight-point-nine."

It was here that Theodoric lost his composure and cracked up just outside the door.

 "Ah'm sorry, ladies, but y'all _sound_ like the Westminster Kennel Club."

"We do not," Mitchie protested lazily, passing him the box of Ultra Hot Tamales. "We sounded like those pretentious gits on the Food Channel."

"Mmm…these are hot."

"Yes, that's the point of them."

"Hello, Jen," Theodoric greeted, leaning down and kissing her well and properly. It was a little bit of cinnamon overdose for the two of them, and both wound up panting for a second before doing it again with even more passion than before

"Note to self. Cinnamon is an aphrodisiac," Mitchie remarked, earning two raised eyebrows. "Keep away from Chloe at all costs, feed _large_ quantity to Donaghan." Jen actually let out a scandalized little squeak. "Not that he needs it," Mitchie continued, turning off her imaginary taperecorder in mime style. 

"She's getting better," Theodoric whispered in Jen's ear reassuringly. "I've brought you a present," he announced, unbuttoning his denim jacket.

Curled up close to his chest behind the worn denim and brass buttons had ridden a little black munchkin cat, whom Theodoric placed gently on the bed. The cat was obviously only an older kitten, about fifteen inches long.. She had startling green eyes and a tail that seemed like the question mark floating above her head if she were drawn in a comic strip. Jen burst into tears of joy and surprise watching the kitten.

"She's about five months old and her humans abandoned the whole litter at a Muggle dump. Jamie thinks she might be part-Kneazle." Theodoric had told Jen about his old friend Jamie Geran, a Squib who had taken up with Muggles and become a shelter veterinarian. "My personal self, I think this kitten needs some love."

"She's beautiful," Jen sighed, wiping off her tears. "What's her name?"

"Doesn't have one yet. You like her?"

"I love her!"  Jen kissed Theodoric and he took a seat on the bed with her. "Will she bite?"

"Naw. She's very tame. Pet her so," Theodoric demonstrated, making the kitten purr. "When she makes that sound you know you're doing it right."

Nervously, Jen reached out to pet the kitten's head. To her surprise, the little cat rubbed against her hand and eventually curled up in her lap, purring.

"I guess we should think of a name for her."

Mitchie drew herself up to her full height, cleared her throat, and recited 'The Naming of Cats' by T.S. Eliot. Jen was startled by this weird theatricality, but Theodoric seemed perfectly used to it. Having finished the poem and petted the kitten on the head, Mitchie walked calmly out of the room, probably in search of more cinnamon candies.

"Don't worry. She's recited that poem for years. It's her favorite."

"What the hell was all that nonsense about 'three different names' about?"

"It's the three ways people are perceived. The world in its entirety just sees you as an attractive young female. Your friends see you as Jen and know something about your personality. And then there's the way that you see yourself. Those are the three different names."

"Oh."

"Eliot loved to be metaphorical. He's one of the expatriates who became an English citizen, probably one of the reasons Mitchie likes him so much."

"Does this cat look like a Cassandra to you?"

"Why Cassandra?"

"The whole thing about 'a cat needs a name that's particular, a name that's peculiar, and more dignified.'"

"Cassandra? Naw. This kitten looks like a Circe or an Antigone. Or how about Andromeda?"

"Or Calliope," Jen suggested michievously.

"That _would_ be cruelty to animals."

"Just joking." Jen thought for a moment. "How about…how about Emerald? Because of her eyes."

"I see." Theodoric looked closely at the kitten and inquired of her, "Do you like the name Emerald, Emmy-cat?"

He was answered with a loud 'purr,' and a startled smile from Jen.

"She already answers to Emmy-cat."

"We'll call her Emerald then and Emmy for short."

"We?"

Theodoric's tone suddenly became serious.

"Jen, darlin', do you suppose you'll ever want to have children?"

"I don't know…I guess."

"Alright, then. Don't you suppose the two of us should practice first by raisin' Emmy-cat?"

"Are you saying you want to have kids with me?" Jen asked, her voice going up an octave in shock.

"I'm saying I want to have kids in general. I'm also saying I like you more than any girl I've known, and not just the friend kind of like, though that's what I felt first. I also think you'll need some help to start, considering you've never had your own cat."

"But the mission's over! I have to go back to Britain soon!"

Theodoric grinned.

"I know. I got my transfer papers this morning."

Jen frowned in absolute disbelief.

"You're going to relocate to another bloody continent for a girl you met maybe three weeks ago?"

"No, it's our one-month anniversary." Theodoric kissed her gently on the forehead. "And I actually applied when I found out Mitchie was going. I want to be near her and my English cousins for awhile. Since I was part of a team that pulled out the biggest thorn in the United States Government's ass, they simply can't refuse me anything."  Jen's face slowly broke into a smile. "You may want to keep that in mind and ask for a new Firebolt XP-600."

"I think a large scratching post would be more appropriate," Jen remarked, gazing at the sleeping kitten on her lap. "I'm glad you're coming. I like you rather a lot, too."

********************************************************* 

"Professor Snape!" the curly-haired man greeted, shaking the stern Severus' hand as he stepped out of the fireplace. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. This must be your lovely wife! Good afternoon, Professor Granger-Snape."

"Who are you?" a decidedly nervous and slightly airsick Hermione inquired.

"My name's David Pike and I'm the first assistant to the President. He's very anxious to meet the two of you."

"Where's my daughter?" Snape asked bluntly.

"She's here at Sarah Goode Memorial Hospital, as are the other memebers of the mission from Britain. I've been advised that her condition is stable." This cheerful bootlicker was clearly tring Severus' patience. "Come with me to the conference room. Mr. President's been expecting you."

"Do you have children?" Severus asked the underling very sternly.

"No, sir, I'm not married."

"Then you don't know. The President can bloody wait until I see my daughters."

"But sir!"

"He's not in a very good mood right now," Hermione explained as Severus left the room. "Tell President Feldman it's broom-lag. He'll understand." She made to follow her husband.

"But this is a matter of national importance!"

Hermione borrowed one of Cass Tyler's favorite expressions at that point.

"As my Severus just told you, nations next to children mean diddly-squat."

********************************************************* 


	65. Two Kinds of Crazy

Chapter Sixty-Five: Two Kinds of Crazy

"And but for a moment's rest to contemplate, the madness of the victor shall be more complete than that of the vanquished ever was."  
-Lao Chi Phnem, 2986 b.c. 

Julie had been unconscious –asleep, it seemed, since de Diablo's death. The Aurors were all amazed that a glorified figurehead, a mere girl, no less, who had been chosen merely because of her family and because her eyes could glow red, had _literally_ singlehandedly killed the South American terrorist. The headline of one of the more playful American national papers, the _Daily Orb-Star,_ read 'And With Her Left, No Less!' This same paper was making the biggest fuss it could over Mitchie's involvement, since it was, naturally, Pittsburgh-based. Reporters camped about the corridors of Sarah Goode Memorial Hospital, hoping to catch an interview or at least a glimpse of one of the unlikely heroes. The best they got was Mitchie and Donaghan raiding the candy and soda machines. 

On this occasion Donaghan had blushed furiously in the glare of the flashing bulbs, and Mitchie had casually inquired of the adoring throng whether anyone had change for a Galleon. She was still suffering from what the Aurory mediwizards termed 'battle dementia,' which was basically a state of semi-shock where nothing registered as seriously as it should.

Considering it was Mitchie, though, it was sort of hard to tell.

She answered the reporters' questions fairly obliquely, almost as if they were inquiring how her last Potions lesson went. Donaghan stammered his way through it, suggesting more than once that he really had very little to do with things. At that point a rather disgusting female reporter began to gush about how cute his accent was, and Mitchie, incensed, remarked 'Isn't it?' and kissed him full on the mouth to demonstrate that 'this one was taken' dramatically. This display of boldfaced affection drew applause, cheers and loads of flashbulbs from the admirers.

At length the poor wolves were rescued by several fairly imposing Aurors, who divided like an amoeba, one part to assist the teenagers away and one part to inform the press not only that the Yank was suffering from battle dementia, but that they really weren't supposed to be there, anyway. The result of that misadventure was several fairly impressive wizard pictures of werewolves snogging in international newspapers, as well as a positively saccharine editorial about the expatriated orphan American finding love in Scotland by the disgusting female reporter from L.A. 

Draco read several of the newspaper accounts to Julie, occasionally brushing her hair out of her face and holding her uninjured right hand. She slept on, of course, but the idea that she _might_ hear him was comforting. Her left arm was in traction due to the broken collarbone, which they couldn't fix until she regained consciousness, and her scar had swollen and blistered from the energy in the Killing Curse she had stopped. She also had some few minor scratches, which had been carefully bandaged the Muggle way, meaning band-aids striped her good arm like a tiger's. Malfoy hadn't left her side, nor did he intend to. The Aurors had warned him of the possibility she might not wake up, but he knew she would. It was simply too unfair for him to fathom, the idea of Julie dying at barely sixteen, just as she had found her family, her magic, and -dare he hope? –a man who loved her despite her age. 

Did she know how he felt?

Did she even _care?_

Was she really in love with him, too? _Could_ she be? Or was her affection the kind of crush that would wear away? Was he doomed to love her, while her liking wore off into friendship? 

Or would she simply not wake up, leaving him to nurse his wounded heart forever, without even Severus to turn to for comforting advice, since he had loved his friend's baby girl?

He laid a gentle kiss on her forehead, hoping against hope. Suddenly she stirred, but it was only to cough spasmodically and fall back, unconscious features twisted in pain. Draco squeezed her hand.

"I love you, Julie."

In the doorway Severus's heart jumped a beat.

***************************************************************** 

"Oh, come off it, Chloe!" Aldous raged. "I let you go off alone and you nearly died! It's over! You don't need me for anything anyway!"

"Merde, Aldous! You're blaming chance as an excuse to get rid of me!"

"It's my own fault! Go on!"

"I'm _not_ leaving," the first-year announced in a steely tone. "What is it really, dear?" she inquired sarcastically. "Am I too blond? Too French? Too _young_, maybe?" 

"Chloe, you're twelve years old, goddamn it! How do you even _think_ that fast?"

Silently, Chloe crossed the room to where Aldous stood and smacked him solidly across the face with a crack. She then kissed him as well and as passionately as she could, which was something no ordinary twelve-year-old could have done.

"You don't do your research, now, do you, Brit?" she asked coldly as she swept out of the room.

********************************************************************** 

Again Julie coughed, and this time Hermione raced to her other side.

"Julie? Julie, wake up. It's –it's Mum."

At last she had given the name for herself to Julie. She had acknowledged her daughter entirely.

Julie coughed again and a little blood flecked her lips. Severus touched her good hand.

"Mawnin', mawnin' glory," she mumbled oddly. "I nuked the bad guy."

"Yes, you did, sweetheart. You finished everything," Hermione told her child, eyes tearing up.

"Mitchie helped a lot. My neck hurts like hell in jars. Hey, Dad, Draco. How'd you guys get up here?"

"Your uncle Harry flew your mother and I over. Draco's been here with you since –it happened."

"That's good. When do we go home? I've got to start the strategem field reports on that pentacle Voldemort rises from. And then there's been reports of some Dark wizards out in Bulgaria, I think I'd like to go after them for a bit. Suppose I can dual-enroll between Hogwarts and the Auror Academy? Wait, _is_ there an Auror Academy? Dad, do you know-?"

"The President of the United States," the bootlicker announced. Immediately Hermione and Draco stood, and Severus followed a moment later. Alden Feldman strode into the room and leaned over Julie's bed. She merely sat up in bed straighter.

"Miss Snape?" the President held out his hand, which Julie shook with her good left one, inverting the wrist Quidditch-style. "Our nation owes you a debt of gratitude. It is the will of the United States Congress that you and your party be presented with the Medal of Salem as soon as your and your agents' injuries are recovered from. You have also been voted honorary full agent status in the American Aurory for your deeds of bravery." In a way that sort of reminded Julie of Professor Longbottom, Feldman swallowed as if to gather his nerve. "On a personal note, I would like to inquire how it was you defeated him."

"I intercepted an Avada Kedavra curse and redirected it to the source of its origin, to be purely technical." Julie realized she shouldn't talk too much like an Auror or risk offending them. "In personal terms, it hurt like a bugger to do."

Nervously the President chortled.

"That is quite a feat, Miss Snape. If I may, I would like to meet with your parents and Mr. Malfoy after you've had a few moments, if that's alright?"

"Sure," Julie responded regretfully. All her homesickness for her family had come back.

"It has been my profoundest pleasure to meet you," Feldman finished sincerely.

"Pleasure's mine," Julie responded absently, as the President left. Her arm hurt and right at the moment she just wanted a hug from her mum and dad. Draco quietly slipped out, and the instant the door shut, Julie burst into tears. 

"Julie!" Severus cried, picking up her hand.

"Oh, Dad, I just missed you and Mum and A.J….I was so scared!"

************************************************************ 

Ron tiredly got up from the chair he'd been reading the reports in. A sound at his shoulder distracted him. He turned, and there was a snowy white owl.

"Hedwig?" he asked in amazement.

"No, this is Galadriel," Judy announced, quietly stepping from behind the hospital partition. Ron's jaw dropped and he saw her eyes filled with tears of joy. "Harry gave her to us when he flew me over."

************************************************************* 

A/N: Short chapter this time, I'm sorry, guys. More soon on this and the prequel, though.  
-J. McN.


	66. Irritated Or Totally Enraged?

Chapter Sixty-Six: Irritated or Totally Enraged?  
"Mewww rrrrrr (lick, lick,) rrrrrrr rrrrrr..."  
            -Pyewacket McNeville

"Uh, Jen?"

"Yeah, Mitch?" The dark-haired girl was happily eating dinner, which included a bowl of soup.

"Is Emmy supposed to be eating that?"

The black kitten was indeed chowing down, eating from the same dish as her keeper. Emmy raised her head, nose covered in soup, and inquired:

"Mrrow?"

"Why not?" Jen observed, scratching behind Emmy's ears. "She seems happy. Yes, aren't you a happy cat? Listen to her purr!"

"Yes. Cats do purr," Mitchie agreed absently. She walked over to the window of Jen's room and looked out a bit disconsolately. 

"What's wrong, Yank?" Jen asked, realizing her friend was on the brink of tears. Maybe the shock was finally breaking. Battle dementia sometimes ended that way, according to the doctors.

"Nothing," Mitchie answered evasively.

"Bullshit," Jen remarked bluntly. "What is it, Mitch?"

"Donaghan asked me to marry him," she admitted, tears running down her cheeks.

Jen had completely expected the opposite. 

"Oh."

"It's not that I don't want to, Jen! I -I love him."

"Wow." Jen was totally gobsmacked by this. "Uh, so... did you say yes or what?"

"I haven't given him an answer yet, there's no real hurry," Mitchie explained, still sniffling. "I just...there's some things that are hard when you haven't got parents."

"What d'you mean?" Jen asked. "No parents is good! You can marry Donaghan if you want to now, there's noone to say you have to choose someone else!"

"Jen, from your point of view, parents are bad things. I never got to try 'em, though."

"What about Julie's folks? Aren't you their foster kid?"

"I was also a foster kid to those whackos in Pittsburgh. It's not the same. The Snapes are sure better, though."

"At least they treat you like their own daughter."

"And not like their own collie."

"Huh?"

"It's a kind of dog."

"I know. Did they seriously treat you like that?"

"They put a collar on me and gave me my own doghouse."

"Those yankee bastards."

"Funny, that's just what Theo said." Mitchie considered this a moment. "Jen, dear! You _fancy him, don't you?"_

"Yeah," Jen mumbled, unwilling even to attempt denial. "You didn't by any chance _plan to set him and I up, did you?"_

"Why, Jennifer, _whatever would give you __that idea?" Mitchie grinned broadly and cracked her thumbs before scratching at the band of her eyepatch a little roguishly. "It's in my blood, Jens, just natural matchmaking."_

"Must you look so disturbingly like your mother _all the time?" Professor Snape inquired, stepping through the doorway where he had been listening. "Can I borrow your Yank for a moment, Jennifer?"_

*********************************************************************

"I don't think that would really be appropriate," Ron stammered.

"Nonsense. The nation is waiting on tenterhooks for an interview with the young heroines from England. And who better to interview them than my granddaughter?" The news mogul tapped the grinning blond girl at his side on the shoulder. 

"Mr. Conlan, I can assure you, none of them are really in any state to be interviewed. Julie's injured and busy with her parents, Chloe's getting her broken arm repaired, Donaghan's been hiding from the reporters in closets lately, Jen's trying to learn how to speak Kittenish, and Mitchie's sort of insane right at the moment,"

"Mitchie?" the girl inquired.

"Short for Michelle," Ron responded automatically. "Really, if you could just come by another time-"

"Mitchie _Tyler?" the young reporter shrieked. "I know her from school! We're like, the bestest friends! Can you just tell her Sweets Conlan is here? I just __know she'll be really pleased!"_

It was an excuse to leave, if nothing else, so Ron bowed out of the green room as respectfully as he could. Judy was just outside, trying not to behead herself giggling.

"Oh, what?" he inquired just a bit acidly.

"That's Spot and Sweets Conlan in there?"

"And I thought Rita Skeeter was a mess!" Ron sighed and shook his head like a wet dog before pausing sharply. _"Spot?"_

"Spot the third, I believe," Judy replied calmly. "His own grandfather was a Brooklyn newsboy in the 1890s, became a reporter and they've worked their way up since."

_"Spot?"_

"They're Americans, dear. It's no weirder than 'Mad-Eye' sounds."

"At least Moody had a _reason to be called that," Ron retorted before starting again. "He __didn't-"_

"Not that I know of, no."

"That girl reporter's accent's going to drive Severus insane."

"Brooklynish?"

"God, that's its' own language?" Ron asked in horror. Judy cracked up.

"It's no stranger than Mitchie's Pittsburghese or Theodoric's Southern, or your own little dialect, for that matter."

"What dialect?"

"You fairly have 'Birmingham' written on your forehead, love."

"I'm not _from Birmingham. I'm from-"_

"Ottery St. Catchpole? A suburb wizarding village near Birmingham."

"You showoff Muggle, what's Hermione been teaching you?"

"Lots of things. Your sister's also been acquainting me with Weasley history."

"She _didn't-?"_

"Whatever do slugs taste of, anyway?"

Ron glared at his fiancee for a moment, mumbling something about defenestrating Ginny when he got home. Then a brilliant idea struck him like a lorry on Abbey Road and he kissed Judy.

_"Damn," she observed a few seconds later. "Got to have Chloe find me some escargot."_

"How 'bout we just find a broom closet?"

********************************************************************* 

"My mother did _that?" Mitchie asked, smiling through tears._

"Yes, and what's worse, your father was in on it. I could expect Cass to be a bone-and-blood matchmaker hell-bent on seeing me attached, but John really knew how to operate. We never did figure out whose idea it was."

"I don't look very much like my mom, though, do I?"

"Admittedly, you have your father's hair, his nose, his coloring, and even those teeth and the werewolf star. But the build, your expessions, and a lot of your mannerisms are exactly Cass."

"When you and Julie first walked into the Great Hall together, you should have seen Severus jump," Hermione smiled. 

"My mother wrote about you both a lot...Uncle Paul gave me her journal."

"Don't you refer to her as 'Mum,' Mitchie?" Snape asked suddenly.

"I...no, I guess I don't. I never knew her."

"Do you know how a Pensieve works?"

****************************************************************** 

"He knows?"

"I'm fairly certain."

"Mum already suspected. I bet they know."

"Julie, we have to stop this. Your parents know, you're still sixteen, and I don't think-"

Another racking cough from his secret love silenced him.

"Draco, calm down. I won't die, it's only a little cough."

"I don't want to tie you down, Julie."

"You aren't."

"Yes, I am. I can't offer you youth or innocence."

"I don't want them."

"Noone does until they're gone, Julie."

"I've heard that."

"I'm thirty-four."

"I know that."

"I was seventeen when you were born, Julie."

"Am I flinching or counting on my fingers?" 

"No. You should be."

"But I'm not."

"Why aren't you?"

"Because the age gap isn't the important thing. I worry more about you being one of those rich kids I used to hate. I also don't want Mum and Dad to resent you for liking me since they've only had me a while."

"I don't want to hurt Severus. He's like a father to me now."

"And my mum?"

"She's become a friend. I don't have many anymore."

"Why don't we just stay as we are for a little while longer?" Julie suddenly sounded pleading instead of calm and rational as she had been a second ago. "It's just been so good, what if we convince them that it's alright?"

"I won't lie to Severus."

"I don't want you to. I don't want to hide from my dad either." 

Draco leaned back in his chair with a sigh of defeat.

"How could they ever agree to our relationship?"

"How could anyone have ever agreed to theirs when it started?"

********************************************************************* 

Cassandra Tyler was a little shorter than her daughter and had far darker hair. She did, however, possess the same mischievous smile and sense of humor, as well as the characteristic bluntness that disarmed so many a foe into giggling. She also seemed about the same age as Mitchie, despite looking as if she had been through a profound and severe long illness. 

"See, the thing is," Cass had explained years ago to Hermione, "I'm not as old chronologically as I am legally."

"Me neither. I added around fourteen months with a Time-Turner."

"I had one as well...in years I _should be a couple months younger than you."_

Mitchie had not known her mother's secret.

"But...but you're an Auror! You're-"

"Married? Yes, Father threw a fit when I said I wanted to marry John."

"Did you have to elope?" sixteen-year-old Ginny Weasley asked. 

"No. John dressed up in a Muggle suit and tie and very eloquently asked him for my hand. I felt it was a little antifeministic of him, but Father appreciated it. Then John went into Father's study and either argued, debated or just talked him into giving us his blessing. I was amazed, to say the very least."

"So'm I. He never seems to talk at all," Ginny agreed. 

Mitchie watched in astonishment as her mother socialized with the Gryffindor girls of a generation ago. A few memories later, she watched her mother lead Professor Snape to Hermione and then hug her father as the other couple was reunited. Sixteen years later, of course, Mitchie knew the reason why Hermione looked so ill, but back then they hadn't, and her father's swiftness in bringing her a glass of milk and some light munchies was commendable. She realized that the looks of recognition she got from Professor Snape when she did something without being asked, taking care of some little, not very important detail, were because that had been her father's specialty. 

Her parents embraced, and her father gently ran a hand over her mother's slightly rounded stomach. It was at that moment that Mitchie realized she had been present herself in a sort of way before. Professor Snape tapped her lightly on the shoulder and brought her back out of the Pensieve, back to the present.

"Michelle, we were wondering..." Hermione began.

"We would like to adopt you legally," Severus finished. 

Mitchie thought for a moment.

"Yes, I think Mom and Dad would have liked that," she agreed.

************************************************************************* 

Tuesday morning was bright and cool and clear, a Southern winter day. Theodoric had woke early and dressed in his usual exact manner, according to a somewhat severe custom he had adopted when he was quite young. No matter what he wore, whether it was a t-shirt and Muggle jeans or elegant dress robes, Theo made sure his clothing was flawlessly clean, ironed as appropriate, and suitably arranged. It was something he had learned in his Southern upbringing.

The Malfoys _were an old, pureblooded family, but not quite as opposed to Muggle-borns as Lucius and his father had made out. Lucius' brother Salazar had held the unthinkable belief that Muggles were fascinating. He and his best friend Arthur often managed to get on Lucius' bad side, and Salazar eventually went to visit America to avoid being forced to join the Death Eaters. He landed in Richmond, Virginia, where he eventually bought an old Muggle plantation house. _

On his first night ashore he went to the theatre and saw a fairly awful production of 'Fiddler On The Roof.' It was easily the worst theatrical travesty since John Wilkes Booth last played Ford's Theatre, but Salazar went to every performance. The actress playing Tzeitel had stolen his heart. He managed to court Katie Scarlett Beauregard, but Salazar didn't have the nerve to tell her he was a wizard. Judging by her father and mother, who were proud Virginian Muggles with an original oil portrait of Robert E. Lee over the mantlepiece, she would be frightened of something that strange.

By either some miraculous chance or the bridesmaids' hairdryer blowing the fuses out on the Salazar Malfoys' wedding night, there was a power outage. Salazar knew he couldn't keep his secret any longer now that they were man and wife. Just as he was about to dispell the darkness, a soft glow grew from the tip of Katie's wand.

"Sal, there's something Ah think y' should know about me," she began nervously. Salazar performed a Lumos charm of his own and kissed his bride.

As lucky as they had been to find one another, Katie and Salazar were childless for several years. In the meantime, Salazar had reconciled with his brother's wife, and she and Katie wrote voluminous letters comparing notes about Malfoy men. Narcissa visited with her son Draco when he was fifteen, just in time for the birth of Katie and Salazar's only child. Theodoric's aunt Narcissa became his godmother, his Muggle uncle Robert his godfather, and according to a tradition in Katie's family, Draco was declared his godbrother. It was merely another charming Southern custom designed to ensure closeness between cousins, and it worked well. Draco wrote letters to his little cousin, and the first thing Theodoric ever wrote was a scribbly childish reply. As the war with Voldemort escalated in England, the knowledge of his sweet, half Muggle-born cousin had helped Draco to break from his father's will. 

Theodoric idly thought about the future as he dressed. He genuinely hoped he would have a life with Jen always by his side. In fact, tomorrow he was taking her to visit his parents. 

*********************************************************************** 

Julie and Mitchie were going to be sisters. Julie's collarbone was well enough for her to be out of traction and in a sling. As far as the doctors could tell, Mitchie didn't seem especially mad to them, at least no more than Julie assured them was usual. They were two teenage girls, three with Jen, and four once Chloe showed up with the thorn soda. Five, if one didn't mind Emmy's slight felinity. So they were celebrating, as was the wont of their kind.

Somewhere between pleasantly caffienated and hyper-as-a-house-elf, Mitchie got up to answer the door.

"Speak thy name, else we shall all call thee Termagant!" she warned, brandishing a near-empty bottle and swinging the door open. On the threshold was a pretty blond with a flawless suntan, her hair tied back in a sporty ponytail, and a 'Monongahela Monsters' Quidditch T-shirt.

"Mitchie!" Sweets Conlan cried ecstatically.

The werewolf responded with a Scottish word Julie had only heard Donaghan use twice. It was not a translation of 'hello' or even 'God, not you,' but rather something very nasty involving Acromantulas and bestiality. Chloe went scarlet, Jen raised her eyebrows and applauded, while Julie just looked at the oblivious newcomer in horror.

"It's me!"

"I know," Mitchie answered despondently.

*********************************************************************** 


	67. Wolfy Thoughts

A/N: Sorry to take so long. I was working on the other ones. Here you go.

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Wolfy Thoughts

Mitchie was not happy. Far from it. In fact, if Happy had been located slightly to the left of Hogwarts, she would be lounging on a beach in Siam somewhere.

Did Siam _have_ beaches? And didn't the Muggles call it Taiwan now?

"Let's play Quidditch!" Sweets had announced, a little too cheerfully to suit Mitchie's present mood, which was, to say the least, vile.

__

'**You** can be the Bludger,' the werewolf thought quietly.

"Alright! You play Keeper?" Donaghan had asked.

__

'Traitor.'

"Yeah! How did you know?" Sweets gushed.

"It's after bein' printed on yeh're shirt."

__

'Dumb blonde.'

"Oh! We can be captains. You want to pick first?"

"After you," Donaghan offered politely.

"Okay!" Sweets looked around at the gathered young witches and wizards. "I pick..."

__

'Draw it out a little longer and our brooms'll go out of date.'

"Mitchie!"

__

'No fucking surprises, this New Yorker.' Mitchie drew herself up to her full height, which was, thank Merlin, an inch or so more than Sweets'.

"Er, I play Keeper."

"I know. Would you mind being my Beater?" Sweets offered Mitchie a battle-scarred Bludger-bat.

__

'America's **crawling** with bondage freaks.'

"If I must." Mitchie accepted the heavy bat. _'I still think you'd make a great Bludger, Sweetsie,'_ she thought.

__

'Why, Mitchie, such **nasty** thoughts!'

'Up yours, Theodoric. Get out of here.'

'I think it's fascinatin' we can still do this. What's it been, three years?'

'And it should be **brilliant** fun when one of us wants to shag.' Mitchie thought sarcastically. 

__

'Why is it that you hate Sweets Conlon so?'

'Why the- (**most** inappropriate Scottish word) _-not, Theo?'_

'I don't even know what that word **means**.'

'Ask Jen. She'll tell you in flawless detail.'

'Witch.'

'Redneck.'

'Shrew.'

'Yankee.'

****

'What in the name of Jefferson Davis did you call me?'

'Stow it. She's picked you.'

'What?'

'Slutsie MacBrooklyn. You're Chasing. Head **out** of arse.'

"What the hell are you two doing?" Chloe asked, looking at Mitchie and Theodoric in confusion. "Your eyebrows were about to jump off and attack."

We were having an argument," the Americans explained simultaneously.

"Er- pardon my ignorance, but you two haven't said a word," Sweets remarked -well, sweetly.

"It's our _favorite_ argument."

"We don't _need_ to talk anymore."

"Youse are just strange sometimes," Sweets observed.

__

'Don't **even** think it!' Theodoric warned.

"Kids! Dinner!" a voice called from the hotel door.

"Aw," Chloe stopped herself just short of a pout. Donaghan had chosen her over Julie as Seeker.

__

'Theo?'

'Yeah?'

'Remind me to kill something large and tasty for Uncle Ron next full moon.'

************************************************************ 

"Chloe?" Julie opened the door of the suite she was sharing with the other girls. 

They had left the hospital and been offered a rather opulent complimentary stay in one of America's most luxurious wizarding hotels. Her dad had been more interested in heading back to Hogwarts' dungeons and baby A.J., as had her mum, but Uncle Ron convinced everyone to stay by suggesting he and Judy 'elope while they were in town.' Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny had simply flown A.J. over with Lily and small Hermione. 

"What is it?"

"You seemed sort of out of it at dinnertime."

"My arm hurt," Chloe held up her recently broken and even more recently mended arm.

"Oh. Well, if _that's_ all..."

It was one of the most obvious tricks on earth, personally lifted from Judy Parkington when she was a Broughton kid. Sure enough, it worked on Chloe like a charm.

"I broke up with Aldous."

"Oh... _-You what?"_

"Broke up. You know, tell him he's being a git and can't kiss you anymore?"

"Chloe...why?"

"He was being a git and I didn't want him kissing me anymore."

Julie sank into a chair, positively floored.

"I suppose asking for details would be superfluous."

"No, he still thinks I'm a twelve-year-old."

Given the rampant and almost assuredly illegal record of Time-Turner use in her family, Julie had to raise an eyebrow.

"_Aren't_ you?"

"I'm part veela. We age acceleratedly."

This had honestly never occured to poor, ignorant Julie Starcatcher. A twelve-year-old acting like a sixteen-year-old had simply never really been all that odd. Why didn't they tell her about all these weird wizardy things when she showed up?

"_How_ acceleratedly?"

"From puberty it's three years in every year, then it stops when I'm chronologically nineteen or so."

"Chloe..." Julie was suffering from a severe case of shocked-to-hell. "I know this seems stupid, but I really have to ask."

"Go on."

"Why the _hell_ didn't you mention this earlier?"

********************************************************** 

A/N: Short chapter this time. Next should be done in a few days. I finally got my spell check to not automatically change 'Conlon' to 'Conlan,' which is apparently a rarely-used word that means something the stupid computer thesaurus has no matches for. Maybe it's the name of a Microsoft Office programmer.

Sorry to keep you-all waiting so long. I really didn't mean to and was very bad. I also found my Harry Nilsson CD and started a fic because the freakin' Coconut song inspired me. I also wrote an aside to this story which will shortly be explained, called Purebloods In The Closet. It isn't slash.

And by the way, my kitten's hip has healed perfectly without the surgery. I have, needless to say, changed veterinarians. I also got two extra cats for Christmas, making a grand total of eight. Anyone have that weird dream about leopards too?

-Jan McNeville


	68. Terribly Tribbley

A/N: And now for another chapter! Here you go!

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Terribly Tribble-y

_"Diiiiiee!"_

Mitchie whacked a Bludger in Sweets' direction so hard that it nearly took the Brooklyn girl's arm off. Donaghan took the Quaffle from Aldous and moved for the goal, but Mitchie's second Bludger knocked him off his broom. 

"Wha," he observed, landing on his back with a goofy grin.

Julie actually stopped and watched her friend in shock, letting Chloe dive for the Golden Snitch. 

"Mitchie! Are you crazy?"

A second later, a Bludger hit the brush of Chloe's broom, catapulting the light little French girl into the air. Quick as lightning, a black streak shot across the pitch, slowing down only long enough to catch Chloe.

"Die, Seeker!" Mitchie howled defiantly. The black streak slowed to a hover in mid-air. "Oh. Hi, per'fessor."

Snape raised his eyebrow at his adopted daughter-to-be and held up the small Seeker by the scruff of the robes like a misbehaving cat.

"This, I believe, is a Seeker. We do not use mangonel fouls on Seekers."

"Sorry," Mitchie mumbled through clenched teeth.

"It's bad form unless you're either very ill-mannered or in Slytherin," Snape explained. "Since you're an American, I guess you can get away with it."

"What?" Chloe protested. "She almost shot me into next week!"

"Mitchie's always been a bit berserk, haven't you?" Sweets asked cheerfully. 

A frightening change suddenly swept over Mitchie's already strained countenance. 

"Berserk? _Berserk?!"_ The werewolf swept her broom over to the Brooklynite's at breakneck speed. "I'll show you berserk, you New York Yankee trash!"

"What the-?" Sweets was totally taken by surprise as Mitchie flew menacingly over and drew her wand. "Are you crazy, Mitch?"

"Don't go there," Theodoric warned Sweets as Mitchie fumed.

"Crazy?" Mitchie inquired fiercely, the end of her wand starting to emit red sparks.

"I'm your friend, I don't want to duel with you!" Sweets protested. "Are you nuts?"

"Sweets, _don't go there," _Theodoric warned again.

"I mean, it isn't that time of the month again?"

"She went there!" Theodoric threw up his hands and flew farther away. Professor Snape looked about to separate the girls, but the Southerner easily pulled him back by the sleeve of his robes. A split second later, Sweets disappeared in a flash of blinding light.

"Michelle Isolde Tyler!" Snape shouted. "What in Merlin's name-?" Some yards below Sweets' still-hovering broom was a little white bichon frise puppy, running in circles as if it's head had been cut off. _"Michelle!"_

"Let _her_ get used to it for a change!" With that, the clearly furious werewolf flew off. Eying the small white dog, Donaghan began to chortle, but a glance from Professor Snape silenced him.

"Dammit, boy, where's your chivalry? After her!"

"Right –er, yes, sir!" Donaghan sped off.  Snape's frown didn't exactly disappear, but it lessened a little bit.

"Daddy!" Julie looked absolutely delighted by this turn of events. "How nice of you to make him go comfort her!"

Her father suddenly straightened and turned to his daughter.

"Efficiency is not approval of improper behavior for her age, nor is lack of open chastisement excuse to continue yours." Snape's face was impassive, which to Julie was worse than a frown as she tried to decipher his frozen, over-proper language. 

"Dad?"

"Inside, Julia. _Now_."

"Yes, sir." Julie headed for the ground and the door post-haste. Just as Professor Snape was about to follow, Chloe spoke up.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Chloe?"

"About –that," Chloe pointed to the little bichon frise. "Should we-?"

"Oh, just leave it. She was annoying me terribly."

Snape sped off. Chloe, Jen, Aldous, and Theodoric were left on the ground with a suddenly canine and very nervous Brooklynite.

"Well, what now?" Chloe asked. Theodoric considered the terrified puppy for a moment.

"There's fried chicken scraps left in the dinin' room."

********************************************************** 

"You don't suppose Snape's going to hurt Julie?" Jen asked Theodoric later 

"What for? She didn't turn anyone into an AKC award-winner."

"No, but I think he knows about you-know-what."

"What?" By some miracle, Theodoric hadn't heard.

"You know, her and Malfoy."

"Me?"

"No, Professor Malfoy."

"Draco?"

"Yeah." Jen looked at him as if to say 'and where've _you_ been?'

"She's- -he's…" The Southerner gaped in wonder. "Wow. They're just…perfect for each other." Theodoric grinned and suddenly began to chortle. "She is _so_ busted."

************************************************************ 

Baby A.J.  threw Rosemary the pliquash against the side of his portable crib for the umpteenth time, howling joyfully all the way. Hermione and Narcissa Malfoy, or 'Aunt Cissy' as A.J. personally thought of her, were talking very seriously of grownup things. Being a baby, A.J. didn't really pay too much attention to what they were on about, especially as Rosemary had suddenly shot something out of her side.

"Ay-ee!" he cried, startled and worried for his pet. A moment later, the little ball of fluff Rosemary had produced began to inflate and bleat happily. Another followed, and another and another, much to A.J.'s delight. "Ay-ee, ay-ee, _ay!" _

By the time Hermione and Narcissa heeded his joyous cries, Albus Julian was up to his merry little waist in baby pliquashi. The words that were uttered then, while certainly colorful and definitely creative in reference to Hagrid, were not exactly intended for baby wizards' ears.

"He swore it was the only pliquash in Britain!" Hermione swore.

"Apart from Draco's puffskein, it was the only furry ball I saw!" Narcissa protested. "Oh, _no!"_

Pliquashi and puffskeins were, _very_ evidently, compatible.

****************************************************************** 

A/N: In the next chapter we will begin on Act Three: The Lovers Are Discovered!  
(Sorry, momentarily possessed by Harry Zidler. Damn DVDs.)


	69. Confrontation

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Confrontation

"Just _what_ is going on here?" Severus asked his daughter, a little too threateningly. He realized a second later how frightened she was, and with some pride watched her straighten and face him as she would any adversary –bravely.

"I don't know what on earth you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." 

Julie scratched at the white lock in her hair and tried to look nonchalant. If he knew about what she thought he knew about, she was dead meat anyway, so she might as well try all the tricks.

"If it's about Chloe's wardrobe, I had nothing to do with it."

"Oh, don't play that game with me, Julia!" Snape whispered coldly. Inside it was hurting him to do this to his own child, but there were no remaining alternatives. "Your friends aren't quite as loyal as you hoped."

Julie knew that was a lie and gathered strength from it.

"So Jen squealed about the smut Mitchie found on the telly here."

"No, Julia. Your other friend." Snape indicated her still-sore arm. "One of the greater lessons that they don't teach Aurors, always warn your men not to drop their guard. Even if it's, say, around someone unconscious." 

Julie went ashen.

"Never?" she asked, voice trembling a little.

"Even if it's to say, oh, I don't know –'I love you'." Severus sighed. "How long has it been going on?"

"Since- since a little before the play in drama club."

"And how serious is it?"

"Not very. I see more serious things among Hufflepuff third-years."

"As serious as Michelle and Donaghan?" Julie looked at her father in surprise. "Yes, I know about that, too. Draco lacks the vaunted Gryffindor chivalry, enough to go sneaking behind my back, but the Scot doesn't."

"He was only sneaking because I told him not to tell."

"You lie worse than your mother, Julie." Snape smiled almost tenderly and Julie sprang back to the argument.

"And what _about_ Mum? She knew that I fancied him. You were _older_ than Draco when you two fell in love, what kind of hypocrisy _is_ this?"

"The situation is similar, but the parties involved are not!" Snape almost shouted. "Your mother was an honest person, a Gryffindor, and apart from one mistake mostly on my part, we conducted ourselves far from the way I'd expect from two Slytherins!"

"One mistake? Meaning me? _You_ said to put me in Gryffindor!"

"Because I hoped it would make you more like her!" 

He had said it. Julie kept up the bold façade or Severus would never have continued:

"You are a Slytherin, Julia. If you hadn't grown up with Muggles you'd want them dead, and it's only your mother's blood that gives you enough compassion for that! You are cold, impetuous, and if you weren't in Gryffindor you'd loath yourself. _That's_ why you're there, not because of some silly scar. I didn't want the dark in me to come out in you, but it looks like it is."

Starcatchers didn't cry. Julie stood coldly.

"Fine."

A second later, the blinds on the huge window bent and tore apart, bits of glass flying inward from some outside force. A man dressed in black had swung in on a rope, wand pointed at Severus Snape.

"Avada-"

Just as suddenly, a thin woman with black hair appeared at his side and knocked the man's arm awry. Green light hit the wall behind Julie and her father, breaking chunks of plaster off. A knife in the thin woman's hand slid into the attacker's throat.

Watching de Diablo die was nothing like this. Julie stood in horror as blood bubbled from the man's neck, cries for mercy in a foreign language rendered unintelligible. The woman let the body fall and walked toward Julie. White, colorless eyes, with only a ring of black to mark where the iris should be, stared like something from a strange nightmare.

"I never happened," the figure said.

A second later, she was gone in a puff of smoke. Horrified, Julie turned and hugged her father, sobbing like a very tiny child. Snape found himself apologizing over and over for what he had just said, uncertain as to what might have happened a moment ago. Finally, he picked up the woman's discarded knife.

"Which of us saved whom?" he asked his daughter.

*********************************************************** 

"Go on, Sweets! Get the ball! Good doggie!"

Chloe was having a much better time with the Brooklynite as a bichon frise. A chastened-looking Mitchie appeared, drew her wand, and mumbled the spell to reverse the transfiguration.

"Arf! Shit!" Sweets found herself looking very silly on all fours.

"Mitch! Did you have to?" Chloe protested.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mitch?" Sweets got up and gave Mitchie a little shove. "Turning me into a dog! And I thought we were friends!"

"_You_ thought."

"Well, whyever wouldn't we be?" Sweets inquired, looking a little sad. A light suddenly went on above Mitchie's head.

"You didn't fight to keep me off the team?" she asked.

"I offered to quit so that you could play. You're a better Keeper."

"You never fancied Theodoric?"

"You didn't either!" Sweets protested, then suddenly reconsidered her position. "Well, I did think his butt was hot."

"But that article about werewolves?"

"The editors re-cut it! I thought it was fascinating, being able to turn into something else, but they wanted to sell papers!"

"So you aren't a bigoted, brainless New Yorker?"

"So you don't hate me for writing that article?"

"No!"

The two girls hurried and hugged each other. 

"Wolfy witch?" Mitchie offered her hand tentatively.

"And Brooklyn bitch!" 

The two females then executed a genuinely bizarre, freakishly complicated secret handshake that involved no less than three rather scandalous gestures. Donaghan, who was standing off to the side, went scarlet and ordered Theodoric to stop watching.

"You mad? I've seen it, lots."

"All they need is a really polished pole and some costumes," Chloe observed. Donaghan went really red and looked about to smack her. "Sorry, mate."

Having finished their little ritual, Mitchie and Sweets began to animatedly discuss what sounded like a combination of Quidditch, local news, and smutty music videos. Chloe eventually managed to join them, but Theodoric and Donaghan were shut out. Jen appeared a moment later with a shiny cellophane ball.

"Do you think Emmy will like this, Theo?"

"Yes, darlin', I think she will. By the way, are you up for a broomstick ride?"

"Oh, sure." Jen tucked the ball into her pocket. "Where are we going?"

"I was thinking Richmond, Virginia."

********************************************************** 

"What the hell happened in here?" Snape asked, looking around at the sea of furry creatures.

"The pliquash reproduced," Hermione explained, taking one away from A.J. just before he popped it into his mouth.

"How?"

"Apparently pliquashi and puffskeins can mate." Narcissa Malfoy looked more amused than anything. "Randy little fluffballs, though, aren't they?"

"What are we going to do with them?"

"Ee-ee!" A.J. shrieked happily.

"Oh, yes, 'ee-ee.' That's so _very_ helpful, son."

"Don't you _dare_ be sarcastic to that baby!" Narcissa intervened. "It's not his fault the bad old house-elves left Barry White playing." She tickled A.J.'s tummy and he laughed.

"You still have house-elves?" Hermione asked, amazed.

"Of course! Some of them are still in therapy, but mostly they've gotten over Lucius well." Narcissa took another sip of her martini, gently removing the pliquash who had been trying to taste it. "Webby and I have played poker since Draco was born."

"Speaking of your son," Severus began.

"Fancies your daughter? Don't worry, they aren't shagging."

"Balls on a stick! When did _you_ find out?"

"You know, Sev, I've been telling you for years to pay more attention. It's just about _flamingly_ obvious."

"I've known Julie fancied him since the moment he squeaked in in those leather pants," Hermione remarked. Severus looked about to swallow his own tongue. "Don't worry, dear, it's because you're a man."

Severus picked up his baby son.

"Tell me _you_ don't know everything I don't?"

"Da-da!"

"Well, alright then. How serious are they?"

"Oh, Sevvy, it's the _sweetest_ little affair, the pampered, rich little mama's boy falling in love with the self-sufficient and streetwise daddy's girl…"

"Don't throw the word 'affair' around like that, Narcissa!" Severus pleaded. 

"Why not? It's so beautifully French, like –what was that Louis Jourdan movie?"

"'Gigi'?" Hermione suggested.

"That's the one. Except there aren't any fountains to burst into song around."

"There will _be_ no bursting into song!"

"Why not?" Narcissa waved her wand and the traditional orchestra started out of the woodwork. _"A man chases a girl,"_

_"Until she catches him,"_ Hermione supplied. 

_"It always turns out exactly the way she planned."_ the two witches chorused.

"Are you saying Julie's responsible for this?"

"Lord, no, Sevvy!" Narcissa exclaimed. _"When an irresistable force,  
Such as hers,  
Meets some old immoveable stump  
Such as his  
You can tell as sure as you live,  
Something's gotta give  
Something's gotta give  
Something's gotta give."_

"That sure sounds like you think she's responsible."

"We can't help it, dear, we're female," Hermione explained. "Just by being her normal self, Draco fell arse-over-teakettle."

"Poor sod didn't stand a chance." Narcissa looked to be winding herself up for another song and Hermione shook her head. "Oh, okay."

"So you two think it was going to happen anyway?"

"As Sibyll Trelawney would say, 'it is the promptings of fate.'"

"They'll probably just get sick of each other eventually. My son's a real ass sometimes."

"And if not?" Severus raised his eyebrow.

"Well, I always have thought of you as a brother, Sev." Narcissa fixed herself what was either a second or an eighth martini, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. She turned to Hermione. "One more song?"

"If you feel you must."

# "The French are glad to die for love-"

"Not _that_ again."

"Oh, okay." Narcissa leaned over A.J.'s crib and began to sing a Raffi song. Disturbed by the sight of Slytherin's most devious _grande dame_ performing the ballad of a little white whale, with no merciful Captain Ahab in sight to stop her, Severus fled. Hermione winked at Narcissa and followed him.

"Darling, are you alright?" she asked.

"No, I'm not. She's supposed to graduate and repel the adoring throngs of men like a duck until she finally settles down with someone perfect for her." Severus leaned his head on his hands. "I thought we would have more time."

"We did lose a lot," Hermione admitted. "I really don't think this is serious, though. Narcissa just likes to yank your chain."

"What if it is? Look how young you were!"

Hermione bent down and kissed Severus.

"That doesn't mean I stopped being a daddy's girl."

********************************************************** 


	70. He Had It Comin'

A/N: I just heard the announcement that _'Chicago'_ won the Golden Globe. Everybody go see that. Trust me, it's marvelous. I went with my brother and my friend Caitlin, and I lied very lightly about my age to get us in. Hey, I'm a month from 17. No big deal. Also, Lilli is still great with kitten. I've taken to spoiling her rotten and indulging all her weird cat cravings. Here you go.

Chapter Seventy: He Had It Comin'

"Well?" Draco asked. 

Silently, eyes down, Julie walked towards him, closing the door of the family conference behind her. Abruptly she ran towards the blond man and threw her arms around his neck.

"Daddy doesn't mind!" She kissed him fervently and he gazed at her in abject adoration for a moment.

"But _no shagging!"_ Snape added, opening the door with a slam and crossing his arms across his chest in his best let's-scare-the-crumbs-out-of-the-first-years style. "_No_ snogging in public, _no_ spontaneous butt grabs in the hallways, no removal of clothing unless it's either melting off or actually on fire, and _absolutely_ no getting caught!"

"Yes, Dad," Julie mumbled sarcastically. Draco stared at the floor, having recalled something. 

"And while you're at it, no tormenting the house-elves, Malfoy." Hermione couldn't resist throwing a snarky comment in. 

"I haven't done that in years!"

"Aw, give us a hug, you great Slythy git." Hermione hugged Draco and patted him neatly on the head. "You better behave or I'll sick Sev on you."

"See, I always suspected my son would fall for Sevvy's baby girl," Narcissa Malfoy observed, swirling her umpteenth martini neatly in her hand. "My timing was somewhat cockeyed, but hey, it works."

"What in Merlin's name are you wearing, Mother?" Draco asked suddenly, eying his mother's puffy fur coat in distress. "I thought you were all up-in-arms about fur being cruel."

"It isn't now." Narcissa pulled one of the poofy creatures off of the Burberry raincoat she had modified. "I've trained these pliquash-puffskein critters to hold on to poplin twill. It's the only _civilized_ way to wear fur _properly_."

"Now if only they weren't the color of bubblegum," Snape remarked dryly.

************************************************************ 

"Why, darlin' girl, you must be Jennifer Blodgett!" 

Salazar Malfoy, despite being blond-haired and aristocratic-looking, was so inured to Southern American life you wouldn't have known whose brother he was. "Tell me, how is your dear mother? Maria was always so enamored of springtime, according to my nephew's letters. Is your brother well?"

"Sal, you great bunny, let the poor girl get off her broom!" The friendly witch facing Jen had the same sort of welcoming, motherly beauty that so distinguished Julie's Aunt Molly, but there seemed to also be the traces of great nobility. She could only be Katie Scarlett Beauregard-Malfoy, Theodoric's mother. "How were the clouds over the mountains, dear? The weather is awful for flying this time of year."

"I held her tight, Mother." Theodoric helped Jen off of the broom and introduced her properly to his parents. 

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am, sir," Jen almost curtsied.

"The pleasure is ours," Katie replied kindly. "Theodoric's written of nearly nothing else –we had to ask him for details about the problem in New Orleans."

"That's my son for you," Salazar explained, shaking Theodoric's hand and thumping him on the back in greeting. "Evvie's preparing quite a feast inside, all your favorites, and I believe some of the society mucky-ducks are stopping by for awhile."

"There isn't another of those cotillions, Father?"

"Now, Theo, you know full well there's one every third Friday," Katie reminded. "Don't worry, Jennifer, I have just the thing for you to wear. You're about the size I was shortly before I married." She winked and Jen knew she was planning to simply transfigure something suitable. Theodoric had explained the proprieties of living in totally Muggle territory, which included being very socially active so nobody would suspect.

"I'm sorry to seem ignorant, but what _is_ a cotillion, ma'am?" Jen asked.

"Oh, call me Katie Scarlett, everybody does. It's a pretentious Southern word for a dance." Theodoric's mother slipped her arm in Jen's and led her off, clearly interested in more details about what had happened with the Aurory's mission. "Honestly, who in their right mind would let girls your age go in to fight that monster? It's a damned good thing it worked, or I'd have that Feldman up on a pole."

"Isn't –you're talking about the _President?"_ Jen was ever so slightly shocked.

"Naturally, darlin' girl," Salazar cut in. "Alden Feldman grew up in Richmond. I taught him to fly myself." The blond man cracked his knuckles loudly and his wife cringed.

"Sal, would you kindly knock that off?"

"Sorry, Katie m'love. So tell me, Jennifer, how _did_ you girls get that bastard dead?"

"Sal!"

"Really, Father, Jen and I were indoors at the time."

"Yeah, Julie and Mitchie really did the work."

"Theo's friend Mitchie from Morrison?" Katie looked pleased. "How did she like Britain?"

"Oh, she really gets along well at Hogwarts. She was Sorted into Gryffindor."

"And who is this Julie?" Salazar asked.

"Julie Snape?" Jen was surprised they hadn't heard of her. 

"Merlin's beard, that was Severus' little girl?" Sal looked genuinely confused. "I only heard they had a baby some months ago."

"Well, er- Julie's about three months younger than me."

"Oh, _that_ Julie!" Katie apparently kept track of news better. "I thought that must have been a nasty shock, finding out your parents are both magical."

"Not to mention the most popular subject in post-war cinema." Sal grinned. "Has she seen any of those James Bond-y things?"

"We saw one in Pittsburgh. Laughed herself sick, she did."

"I watched one once when Theodoric was a boy. I can't imagine Severus acting a quarter of the way thay made him look."

"And what in hell was _wrong_ with those Hogwarts uniforms?" Katie asked, swearing at the memory of miniskirts and ultra-lift Wonderbras. "I've seen Sal's yearbook and they wear nothing like that!" Jen fought back a giggle and Katie went white. "They _don't,_ do they?"

"Not officially, but we are allowed to wear what we like on weekends now."

"Oh, good! Theodoric's going to Britain soon."

"Not that my son is easily swayed by a passing skirt, but he does seem to have a weakness for dark-haired girls with accents." Sal lightheartedly punched Jen on the shoulder. "Apart from Mitchie, you're the first girl he's ever brought home."

"Excepting of course the pregnant cat when he was ten," Katie pointed out. 

"Mother! Do you have to bring _that_ up to everyone?"

"It was good of you to do the right thing, Theo," Sal joked.

"And I doubt if there's a single home in Richmond without one of Minty's children or grandchildren now," Katie pointed out.

_"Minty?"_ Jen asked.

"Yes, she was very fond of sipping from Mother's drink," Theodoric explained. A gray kitten stopped to bat at his shoelace and he picked it up. "Ah. Here's one of her progeny." He handed the kitten to Jen and petted it on the head. "Good little Soot."

"Soot, what have you been getting into?" Sal asked the kitten. "There's powdered sugar on your paws."

"Evvie's probably chased him out of something in the kitchen." Theodoric kissed the kitten on the head and scratched behind his ears as Soot squinted and began to purr. "Soot always has the strangest things on his paws...oh, look." Jen looked down at the kitten she was holding as Theodoric drew a small and glittering object off Soot's tail. To her shock, it was a diamond ring of some size. "Jennifer, will you marry me?"

For a moment, Jen looked at the hopefully smiling Theodoric, then she bit her lip to stop the tears from coming.

"Yes, darling."

*************************************************************** 

"At last I have someone to wear this dress," Katie Scarlett exclaimed, fixing the sleeves with her wand to suit Jen. "Your arms are longer than mine, but apart from that, you're exactly my size." She chuckled slightly. "I bet you'd make a better Chaser than I."

"I don't play for a House team, but I do Chase."

"Really?" Katie pulled an old folder from the tissue paper the dress had been folded in. "I was Keeper on the girls' team at Longstreet, we were 9 and 0." She excitedly pointed out pictures. "Every reunion we play with our daughters, and a Chaser's just what we need!" 

Jen found herself being hugged unexpectedly.

"Er –this dress is remarkably comfortable," Jen observed. "I mean, for something so formal..."

"You'd expect it to be all corsetty, wouldn't you?" Katie looked sort of pleased with herself. "I sewed it in high school –there are a few sizing charms worked in."

"You _made_ this?" Jen was astonished. "It's wonderful!"

"I always loved fashion," Katie explained. "After school I went on the stage and did most of the costumes, and then I married Sal." She sighed and gestured to the huge and expensive sewing machine in the corner. "He insisted I pursue my own interests and not be some kind of domestic, so I have my own house of design and costume agency."

"Seriously? Have I seen anything you've done?"

"Ever hear of Chateau Verdi?"

"Merciful peace! My friend Chloe worships you!"

"Does she? It's always so strange to hear people like your designs." Katie sighed. "I've been trying to figure out something new for the fall, something that's never been done before, but in fashion there's only so much to do. It's better, I find, to design couture, instead of all this off-the-rack nonsense."

"Couture?"

"You know, make each piece for a particular person. See, if I wanted to design something for our Theodoric, I'd have to keep the shade of his hair and eyes in mind, his height, his build, and the fact that he was born with his left arm longer than his right. Did you notice that?"

"Yes, actually, when we were playing Quidditch."

"Gives him an edge as a Beater, I think. The whole idea of couture is to suit your model perfectly. What looks great on Theo would make his cousin Draco look bad."

"I think Chloe was talking about that the other day. She's French and I think fashion is part of her religion."

"Oh, I stayed in France for a while once, when I was only six. I was so disappointed when there weren't any courtesans frolicking about."

"I've been reading about courtesans lately."

"Do try _'Memoirs of a Geisha'_ next. That makes a wonderful cross-reference when you're learning about the great courtesans."

"Have you ever read anything about the Chicken Ranch?"

"They made a musical about that, actually. I was in it once."

"Really?"

"Yes, three months pregnant with Theo and I had to go about in fishnets. It was actress hell."

"We finally have a drama club at Hogwarts. After Professor Judy's honeymoon we're going to do 'A Little Night Music'."

"Really? How wonderful! I always thought that was Sondheim's greatest comedy. Which part are you after?"

"I'm not sure. Julie suggested I try out for Charlotte or Desiree."

"Oh, Charlotte. You've got the perfect cynical touch for it. I know everyone acts like Desiree's the best part, but Charlotte and Petra make the show. If you get Charlotte I know just the dress for Act One...straight lines, gray flannel with brown sable cuffs, and a hat to match. Then for the evening dress..."

Katie whipped out a drawing pad and in seconds had costumes drawn for most of the show. Jen provided suggestions and details about her friends, and for nearly an hour the two women happily talked costumes to their hearts' content.

It looked like Jen wouldn't be having the stereotypical problems with in-laws, even if Theodoric might.

***************************************************************** 

Ever since Professor Granger left, it had been like open season on Gryffindors. First Lyff Grudgett had broken Tim Weasley's ankle with some slippery stuff poured outside the Fat Lady. Then Jem Blodgett had cursed Lucy Christie's broom during Flying class and caused her to break her nose. Actually, that one wasn't too bad, as Madam Pomfrey managed to make it straighter and a little less Barbra Striesand-ish. Lucy was so pleased she sent flowers to the Slytherin dormitory, which disgusted everyone there and elevated the small and mischievous pranks to all-out war.

Tom Weasley got his hair cursed off. He looked freakish bald, but his uncle quickly replaced it with a hilarious Gryffindor-colors Afro wig.

Kenny Longbottom's pet cat was turned into a Siberian snow leopard. Unfortunately for the Slytherins, it was still very fond of him, and several bullies had to have their arms reattached before Headmistress McGonagall fixed Patches.

Mack was turned literally into a toad. Problem was, the Slytherin who played the prank failed to diminish his size, so there was a person-sized Trevor-lookalike in a Gryffie tie hopping around the halls. That, too, the Gryffindors made light of. It was pretty funny, especially when Mack caught flies in Hagrid's outdoor class.

But finally something had to snap. Matt Flint, who had showed open disgust at his housemates' prank war, lost his temper and hit Hannah Stern in the face. Sh wasn't badly hurt, but the Gryffindor boys vowed to have his blood for it.

"It's an insult to all of us!" Mack shouted that night in the Common Room, acting as leader and rabble-rouser in Donaghan's absence. "Snape isn't there to protect him! I say we move now!"

"Why don't we wait a nice ten minutes while I unpack?" a merry voice from the window twanged. It was Mitchie, hovering on Donaghan's broom with him. 

"How about we help, too?" Julie asked, riding with Draco on her Firebolt XP-550. Chloe waved; she was riding with Sweets. 

"And I'm game for a nice bit of hell-raising!" Jen announced, grinning with Theodoric in her arms. She wore a strange knitted cap, and her black hair seemed longer.

"Three cheers for the Four Witches of Gryffindor!" Mack called, barely noticing that Jen was clearly absorbed in someone else. "We get Flint's balls tonight!"

******************************************************************* 

A/N: Next chapter has lemons in it for some reason. I've no idea why.


	71. The Secret

A/N: The sewing goes on at the Great Dining Room Sweatshop. Now that Mom, Dad, and Auntie Carolyn founded their own costume company, I am a bookkeeper in addition to the family cook. Also, I now have to wear slippers to keep from getting pins in my feet, vacuum thrice daily to protect out precious cats, and basically do all housework while Mommy and Daddy sew. I would be really pissed, but Mom and Dad ask my opinions and use them, so I am overjoyed. I am also reminded of an old joke in which a writer died and was given the choice between Heaven and Hell. St. Peter showed her Hell, where writers were chained to typewriters and flogged, and then Heaven, where the same thing occurred. She protested, saying they were the same, but St. Peter said 'No. Here your work gets published.'  
Here you go.

Chapter Seventy-One: The Secret

"Unnh," a voice moaned, clearly in pain. The sound echoed in the dark dungeons.

"Severus, dear, is that one of yours?" Hermione asked, holding A.J. on her hip.

"Bloody teenagers getting hormonal in the halls –Flint!"

"Professor," the Slytherin gasped, fainting dead away. He looked like he had been hit by Death Eaters. Blood was welling up from what looked to be his crotch and running down his leg. His nose was broken beyond repair and it looked like several teeth were now potions ingredients. To make matters all the more disgusting, his voice, whether from pain or some other cause, had gone from deep to mysteriously high.

"Who did this?"

"Death to Flint!" several voices called. 

Just as the Gryffie girls rounded the corner on their way to a bloody or at least humiliating revenge, they nearly ran into Professor Snape. 

"If I may ask," he whispered sepulchrally, "who did this?"

They were silent for a moment, and then Sweets spoke up.

"Seems to me like Colonel Mustard in da library wit' da wrench." She gave Snape her best stubborn Brooklyn grin.

"Pardon me?"

"Or perhaps Mrs. Peacock in the kitchen with the candlestick," Julie added.

"Professor Plum in the boudoir with the riding crop?"

"What kind of screwed-up Clue game did _you_ have, Chloe?" Mitchie stared. "I really did not need that visual."

"Girls!" Snape shouted, silencing them all. "Did any of you hurt him?"

"Nope. Somebody beat us to the mark," Sweets complained.

"That's it. No more 'Sopranos' for you," Mitchie chastised.

Jen, who had been staring in shock at Flint, suddenly raised her eyes as if something had occurred to her. While Snape was performing a mobiliacorpus spell and levititating Flint up to Madam Pomfrey's, she bent swiftly and swiped his Time-Turner. 

"What have you got there?" Snape asked almost absently.

"Nothing." Jen held up her hands.

Julie tucked the small necklace Jen has slipped her into her pocket.

"Oh, alright."Professor Snape began to speak calmly but in his chastising tone. "I don't think plotting revenge on other students is really appropriate, so if you could act a little more like Gryffindors and less like Sicilian businessmen, I would appreciate it."

"Yes, Daddy," Julie promised. "We will."

Not twenty minutes later, the girls began deciding what to do with the new toy they had.

*************************************************************************** 

"You did it, didn't you?" Jen asked. They were on Theodoric's broomstick, heading to Blodgershire.

"Yes, I did."

"How?"

"I challenged him to a duel as men, but he tried to curse me in the back, so I disarmed him and then it was a fight."

"And the blood?"

"He had a knife, Jennifer. It didn't cut me, but a knife does cut."

"Oh."She was biting down hard on her lip by now. "Was there pain?"

"Did you notice where the blood was?"

"No."

"Well, a certain part of him has been injured to the point where it alters him." Jen was silent, shocked at the idea that gentle Theodoric could do that, but he mistook it for misunderstanding and explained bitterly: "I castrated him."

"But if they find out it was you –why did you do it?"

"Because he hurt you in more ways than you'll ever be able to tell."

They flew on silently for a moment or so.

"Theodoric, land the broom." He complied, and Jen got off to face him. "Theodoric, I've slept with other guys before. Hell, I've slept with other _girls_ before. Some of it –well, some of it I didn't mean to have happen, but some of it I did. Flint was part of that."

Theodoric drew in a breath.

"He was your first, got you drunk in your second year. Used illegal asphodel to induce muscle paralysis, several times. The marks on your back are from him. He had a hand in your dating Lyfften Grudgett and encouraged the abuse. He forced you to take a termination potion at knifepoint in your third year, possibly the only positive effect, broke your jaw once, your arm twice, and used a decidedly illegal Time-Turner to attack you gang-style personally."

Jen could only stare. Theodoric placed a finger gently on her lip. "Before you ask how I know, remember I'm a Malfoy. Not all Slytherins are evil, but all of us are devious."

"How long have you known?"

"Since before I joined the mission, actually," Theodoric smiled. "Yes, and I fell in love with you anyway. There's nothing you did wrong...and you should see the stuff I have on some of your friends."

"So you knew?" Jen was amazed.

"Yes, I did. Can I kiss you now?"

************************************************************************** 

"Mother!" Jen hurried to hug her mom.

"Jennifer!" Mrs. Blodgett had to struggle not to cry. "Your father wouldn't let me write."

"Mother, this is Theodoric Malfoy, my fiance. We met in America."

"It's a pleasure to meet you at last," Theodoric said, noticing more than a few of Jen's features were from her mother's side. 

"Theodoric? You two are...oh. I had no idea." Mrs. Blodgett looked absolutely grieved. "Oh, Jen."

"What's the matter, Mother?"

"Dear, this is an enlightened age. _You_ won't get your claws into her!" The older woman glared at Theodoric. "Your Professor Snape, he can help-"

"Mum! For gods' sake, I'm not pregnant!" Mrs. Blodgett looked stunned. "I fell in love."

Theodoric noticed that Maria Catesby Blodgett was indeed, only about Professor Granger's age. She had left school and married so that Jem and Jen would be legitimate. Of course, he already knew this.

"Oh, Jenny!" The tone immediately changed and Mrs. Blodgett hugged Jen, in the process of which she knocked off Jen's knit cap. She gasped in surprise and what looked like horror, as the roots of Jen's hair were a brilliant red.

"About that, Mother," Jen began. "Theodoric's mother lengthened my hair for the cotillion and she noticed the actual color's red."

"Why ever did you charm it black?" Theodoric asked cheerfully. "It's such a beautiful color as it is."

"I...had to hide her hair, or my husband would have known," Jen's mother stammered. "I –I was sort of indiscreet once, and the fact is..."

"You mean I'm not my father's child?" Jen asked, not sure whether to feel relieved or appalled. "What about Jem?"

"You and Jem are fraternal twins, and Jem is your father's. But you have a different real father."

"And I have red hair?" Jen did indeed feel a little betrayed.

"So did he."

"And he was a Slytherin?" she interrogated.

"N-no -he wasn't..."

_"Who is he?"_ Jen finally yelled.

Maria Catesby Blodgett drew in a breath.

"Your father is the man I really loved." She was struggling not to cry, biting her lip the same way Jen did. "Bill Weasley."

************************************************************************** 

A/N: Is that a shock?


	72. Field Trip!

A/N: As the great twentieth-century philosopher George Erdner said, 'You can't polish a turd.' Here you go.

Chapter Seventy-Two: Red Hair and Scandals

"Who?" Theodoric hadn't heard Mrs. Blodgett properly.

"You mean Uncle Ron is _really_ my uncle!" Jen was more than a little pissed. "You mean I could really be a Gryffindor? Mother, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"And why did you charm her hair? I'm rather liking it." Theodoric reached over to stroke Jen's hair and quickly pulled his hand back as she nearly snarled. 

"Answer me, Mother!"

"Because I didn't want anyone to know!"

_"Obviously!_ Don't you think I have a right to know who my father is?"

"Well...what if you had tried to see him?"

_"You mean he doesn't know, either?"_

Theodoric was mentally refreshing himself on how to treat victims of Unforgiveables, as it looked like Jen's mother might be in for it. On the other hand, he had seen Jen sad and withdrawn and finally happy, but seeing her angry was –well, it was a damn good thing he'd already proposed or he'd have done so right on the spot.

"N-no, dear...he knew I had you and sometimes he wrote owls..."

"You never _told_ him I was his? How long have _you_ known or did you notice until now?"

Jen's mother suddenly recovered her courage and straightened.

"You were _born_ with that red hair, Missy! If your father –I mean, my husband, had seen you, you would likely be dead!"

"Explains the temper, now, doesn't it?" Theodoric remarked to noone in particular.

"Mother, I want you to come back to Hogwarts now and help me straighten this mess out!"

"But...but you've only got one broom..."

"Theo, dear, do you know how to Apparate?" Jen had explained quite some time ago that her mother had left school shortly before she had her children and never learned.

"Naturally. Meet you at Hogwarts' gates?"

"Of course. See you in a little while." 

************************************************************************** 

"Oh, mother of holy _dancing_ fuck!" Julie cursed. "This isn't a Ministry Time-Turner, now, is it?"

"It looks homemade," Chloe observed. "Look at the fingerprint in the metal at the top, and the initials."

"What initials? Oh, no, Chloe, that's the word 'cat.'"

"Cat?" Mitchie suddenly straightened. "How do you spell that?"

"C-A-T. Don't tell me you didn't know how to-"

"Cassandra Alcott Tyler," Mitchie mumbled, her eyes lighting up oddly. Quickly, she ran her thumb against the dusty bars near the bottom of Julie's pet mice cage, waking William and Mary up. Satisfied, she showed them her darkened thumb for the print. "It's not exact, but it should be close."

"Mitchie, was this your mum's?" Sweets asked.

"She mentioned making it in her diary. I think so."

"However did Flint get ahold of it?"

"Filch took it away from her because she was scaring his cat. Maybe Flint got it from him."

"The contraband drawer!" Julie had finally put it all together. "He swiped it from the same place Uncles Fred and George got the Marauder's Map and I got those –nevermind."

"Should the mouse droppings be pink and wiggling?" Chloe asked.

"What, Chloe? Good lord, those are _baby_ mice!" Julie looked rather pleased. "I wonder what took them so long to mate."

"Probably enjoying their privacy while you were gone," Mitchie observed sarcastically.

"'Dems is baby mice?" Sweets asked, scrutinizing them. "'Dey's gonna grow fur later?"

"Sure. I imagine they'll be white. Would you like a pair when they're big enough?"

"Naw. I think my owl'd mistake 'em for a snack."

"Well, about this Time-Turner-"

"What d'you mean '_this_ Time-Turner,' Mitch?" Sweets took the chain from Julie and hung it around Mitchie's neck. "It's _your_ Time-Turner. Right of inheritance."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that... I mean, aren't we _all_ going to do stuff with it?"

"If you want to share."

"I have a sort of errand in mind," Julie remarked.

"As do I." Chloe pulled a 'Moulin Rouge' poster out of her bag. "Field trip to visit the courtesans."

"You _are_ aware Ewan McGregor wasn't really there?" Sweets checked.

"I was thinking a trip to the mid-nineties," Julie explained, blushing slightly.

"Jules! I am scandalized and impressed!" Mitchie picked up another can of soda. "You're going around the 'no shagging' rule, aren't you?"

"Whatever gave you _that_ idea?"

******************************************************************


	73. Suspicions

Chapter Seventy-Three: Field Trip!

"Theo, old man! How've you been keeping? I heard about what happened in New Orleans."

"If I say 'line-of-duty' and look heroic, will you laugh at me?"

"Naw. I do that often enough myself."

"How's Gringotts been?"

"Pretty much the same. Pipescrew and Nailwhacker have a running bet on whether I'll start losing my hair soon."

"It would take them a while to see it, even if you did. Your mother still on about the ponytail?"

"As annoying as ever. Lately it's 'you're a grown man, Bill,' though, as her favorite excuse." Bill Weasley undid the stridently colored scarlet-and-gold ribbon confining his long and still perfectly shocking red hair. "I heard a nasty rumor you were engaged, Theo."

"Quite true. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"What –you need a good diamond?"

"No." Theodoric wasn't quite sure how to phrase what he had to tell his friend. "Do you recall a Slytherin girl named Maria Catesby, by any chance?"

It was like mentioning Hepburn to Tracy. Bill's eyes went distant for a few moments and then he nodded. Theodoric was amazed.

"I knew her when she was a bit younger than you. She married not long after." The regret fairly dripped from the handsome Englishman's voice. Theodoric had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter at the idea of what Mitchie would think of this. 

"So you liked her?"

"I _loved_ her –Theodoric, what _is_ this?" Bill suddenly shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a bit like his mother when she got her back to the wall. "Spanish Inquisition day in America?"

"Just a line of questioning designed to establish a basis for some rather shocking news."

"How very like your Aunt Cissy. Continue." Bill suddenly went ashen. "That _bastard_ husband of hers hasn't been –is she alright?"

"Well, for a Slytherin marriage she's been mainly okay!" Theodoric shouted, determined to knock some sense into Bill and feigning anger to keep from cracking up utterly. "Apart from a paternity scandal regarding her fraternal twins and a _very_ hormonal female werewolf hexing her soon-to-be-ex-husband into next week, she's perfectly fucking splendid, you Gryffindor!"

Bill was silent for a moment.

"Mitchie?"

"Yeah. If she can quit spreading feminism like a disease she'll be quite thoroughly adored."

"So Maria's leaving that –her husband?"

"And not a moment too soon. Your daughter's friends almost strung him up. Most uncivilized."

"You mean Julie Snape and her crowd –_my_ daughter?" Bill staggered and nearly fell into the Hogwarts Lake. Theodoric finally lost his control and laughed.

"She got her mother's gracefulness, thank Merlin."

"I have a daughter?" Bill was sitting down on a rock, looking very puzzled. "Why didn't I notice?"

"Well, considering her legally accepted dad would have killed her on sight if he knew she was yours and her mother charmed her hair a different color to save her life for nearly two decades, I wouldn't have known either."

"Stop -too many words. Talk slower." The profoundly shocked man held his head as if he were hung over. "And she never told me?"

"Nope." Theodoric joined his friend on the rock. "I don't suppose _I _blame her, the situation being what it was, but Jen's furious. Her friends took her to the Quidditch pitch to keep her from homicide and she physically broke six Bludgers by herself."

"Six Bludgers? Hogwarts ones?"

"Nope. Brand-new from Quality Quidditch."

"Wow!"

"I somehow felt you'd be pleased," Theodoric remarked sarcastically. "Look, what are you going to do 'bout this?"

"She's my daughter –Jen, was it? I guess I'll..." Bill trailed off. "I have _no_ idea."

"Well, I have one suggestion. Talk to Severus Snape. He's been through finding out you had a child quite some time ago quite recently."

"Won't he want to kill me for knocking one of his students up?"

"Bill Weasley," Theodoric stood up, "that is the stupidest thing you have said in quite awhile." His friend grinned and got up.

"I suppose he has to be sympathetic." 

"So you're going to deal with this?"

"Yeah." Bill was smiling quite calmly.

"You aren't going to have a mid-life crisis right in Professor Snape's office?"

"Already did. Haven't you seen my broom?"

"And you'll try your best to be careful around Jen?"

"Naturally. What are you getting at?"

"May I marry your daughter?"

"Why not –so Jen's _that_ one?" Theodoric had to grab Bill by the wrists to keep him from the lake this time. "My mother's going to be _very_ pissed."

******************************************************************** 

"Julie, I hate my life."

"Yes. I know." The Seeker looked up from reading Donaghan and Mitchie's book. "Would you kindly get down, though? You're starting to scare me."

Jen, perching on one of the stones of the Astronomy Tower, sighed.

"I've already jumped off here once."

"Silly thing to do."

"I was in second year. Your dad levitated me right over to the lake and let me fall in there. Bastard squid didn't even let me drown."

"Good lord, Jen, you're depressing as hell, you know." Julie frowned at a picture that resembled herself rather unflatteringly. "It's like talking to bloody Ophelia."

"Well, that's perfectly easy for _you_ to say." Jen climbed down from the stone, looking offended. "Your parents didn't _know_ they had you. Mine lied about who I really was."

"Naw, your mother did. Your real dad had no idea."

"What if he's ashamed to have a daughter in Slytherin?"

"He sodding dated one, didn't he? And you're in Gryffindor now, in case you've totally forgotten."Julie looked up from the book at her friend and sighed. "The red roots with the black ends _are_ hideous."

"So kind of you to say," Jen snapped.

"Let's go to France for a makeover. Always cheers Chloe up."

Jen looked at Julie in shock.

"You just casually say 'let's go to France,' as if it were in Hogsmeade? You haven't had a proper haircut since-"

"Since I got Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in my hair. I know." Julie closed the fat textbook and set it down. "Come on, Jen. I think it'd be loads of fun."

"Bisexual black-haired Slytherins don't go to France."

"Bisexual red-haired Gryffindors do whatever the fuck they want," Julie pointed out, then suddenly looked surprised. "Since when have you been bisexual?" Jen gave her a withering look. "Sorry. But I do understand that's a Weasley thing."

"Where the hell are you getting that?"

"Tom and Tim spent thirty minutes discussing Theodoric's looks in detail, Aunt Ginny's peculiar school anecdotes, Uncle Ron's strange tendency to-"

"Stop!" Jen was cringing almost at every word. "Does the phrase 'over-share' mean anything to you?"

"Admit it, it was funny."

"You made that up, didn't you?"

"All but Aunt Ginny's school anecdotes. Blunt as a spoon, she is." Julie looked pleadingly at Jen. "Come on, it'll be loads of fun." An idea suddenly occurred to her. "I tell you what, we'll bring Mitchie and Sweets and all our mates. Make it a 'day with the girls.'"

"You're mad."

"Well, alright." Julie changed tones and opened the book again. "I don't suppose Mitchie told you about the switch on her mother's Time-Turner, what?"

"Her mother's-?"

"Well, where did you think Flint got it? Filch took it away from Mitchie's mum because she was scaring the cat with it. Flint got it from the contraband drawer." Jen, fascinated, listened closely. "He never found the switch, because only Mitchie can work the thing. Has to do with her mother's fingerprint on the top –she _did_ tell you it was a homemade one?"

"Yeah, Sweets calls it a zip Time-Turner."

"Well, Mitch just puts her thumb in the denty place, does something intricate I didn't understand, and then it can do a year or so at a shot. Maybe if we went to France we could really make a trip of it..."

"What do you mean?" Jen's eyes were wide. Julie grinned.

_"The French are glad to die for love..."_

"_No!_" Jen was amazed and finally smiling.

"You _are_ aware Ewan McGregor wasn't really there?" Mitchie asked, coming up the stairs onto the Tower, dressed in something that looked as if she'd raided a period movie set. "I did meet a great lot of hookers, though. They have so much earthy wisdom." She set down a glass of something bubbly that looked rather like champagne. "I did _so_ like all the men wearing tuxedoes, too."

"You mad Yank, you went without us?" Julie accused.

"Got you. I found this dress when I went shopping with Chloe."

"Who are you and what have you done with Mitchie?" Jen asked, pointing her wand at her friend.

"I only went because she told me he and Theodoric were picking out kilts as well. A girl's got to be prepared."

"Kilts?" A strange look had gone into Julie's eyes.

"Yeah, your Malfoy's got one, too."

"Kilts!" Julie leapt up from her seat and clapped her hands. "Oh, Jen we must! Think of it, men in kilts! How very sexy!" The other girls could only stare. "I sounded like a bimbo, there, didn't I?"

"Totally." Mitchie agreed.

"All right, to France," Jen conceded. "But you guys get your hair cut too."

"Not short," Julie and Mitchie admonished in unison.

"I'll get Chloe. She speaks the language there."

"Think Hannah and Lucy might like to come?"

"Sweets will go, whether we invite her or not."

"We better eat there," Jen remarked, still looking somewhat woebegone. "I wonder what the French like to do for fun."

"Jenny?" Theodoric asked, landing his broom on the Tower. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure...I'll go with you guys next time, alright?"

"Naw...Julie, why don't you just take care of your errand first?" Mitchie placed the chain around her friend's neck. "I'm going along to see my mum."

"I'll meet you by the gates, Jen...can you get your mum?"

**************************************************************** 

The Great Hall was alive with whispers about the weird disappearance of the teachers' daughter shortly after Matt Flint had to be sent to St. Mungo's with horrific injuries. Nearly everyone assumed Julie and Mitchie had been responsible, and the Slytherin females were in a state of revolt. Someone had mischievously left wizarding records of several very feministic songs in the Serpents' Nest, and 'You Don't Own Me,' 'Respect,' 'I Will Survive,' and 'Bitch' by Meredith Brooks echoed through the dungeons until no abusive boy dared show his face. The petty intrigues between girls had been set aside in favor of a full-scale revenge crusade, and former rivals and enemies happily began passing around butterbeers and lending each other their favorite Melissa Etheridge CDs, which appeared out of the woodwork like religious artifacts after the fall of Communism. 

It _was_ really rather strange. Even weirder was the sudden rumor that Jeremy Blodgett's mother was divorcing his father, an event that hadn't happened in Slytherin since the mid-sixties. Several people thought they had seen Jen with badly-done red highlights, and one unfortunately ditzy guest of the Gryffindors had leaked the truth. Tom and Tim Weasley fielded questions about whether or not their friend had turned out to be their cousin, until finally Tim told everyone that he personally didn't give a shit and they liked her either way. The crowd was distracted at that moment by a Slytherin girl's act of rebellion –kissing another one. The females of all houses erupted in 'You go girl!'s and other sentiments, the Slytherin boys all looked cuckolded if not downright surprised, and the other boys all burst into applause. There were cries of 'Encore' and somebody got smacked. 

"Dear?" Severus asked Hermione. "What happened?"

"It looks like a feminist rebellion."

"Ah, yes. I remember those. More tea?"

"Thank you. Care for another donut?"

"Have we got the kind with sprinkles?"

"Here." She placed a sprinkled donut neatly on his plate. "I personally like the glazed ones." A.J. spit out a bit of donut hole and she wiped his chin. "Messy baby."

"I really think you're being too calm about all of this."

"About what? Babies spit things out all the time."

"No, the sudden popularity of burning bras in the Slytherin common room. Why are they doing this?"

"I would imagine because the boys have been little shitheads and you've been letting them." Hermione gave her husband a too-sweet smile. 

"You aren't mad at me?" The sprinkled donut abruptly exploded, creme filling covering Severus.

"Whatever gave you _that_ idea?" 

"Alright, I'll let Filch punish the lot of them."

"Without any cleaning products?" Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Their own toothbrushes," Severus promised. Hermione leaned over and licked some creme filling off his cheek.

"I'm not mad at you anymore." 

******************************************************************* 

Theodoric closed the paperback novel he had been reading while his future wife and mother-in-law flew to follow him, after he finished a small errand. It was Baroness Orczy's 'The Scarlet Pimpernel,' and he had been having a rather hard laugh over the mental image of Snape as Chauvelin. Jen landed the broom expertly, clearly having fought with her mother through the entire trip.

"Why don't you swallow your pride and write to him, Mother? He deserves to know!"

"Who does?" Bill Weasley asked. "Maria, you look wonderful. This must be Jennifer." The still handsomely longhaired man, distinguished with graying temples and roguish with a Weird Sisters t-shirt that might have been Mitchie's. Jen looked at him in abject awe. If she hadn't known what she did, she'd find him attractive, and it was evident her mother still did. 

"Bill, I..."

"Are you alright, dear?" Bill took both of Jen's mother's hands in his. "You must be freezing...how is Milton?"

"A bastard, as usual," Jen interjected, before hastily clapping a hand over her own mouth. She had gotten so used to responding that way in America...damn Julie Snape and her bad influence!

"Well, er..." Bill quickly recovered his senses gracefully. "Let me guess, grounded you from Quidditch?"

"No."

"He's what you British call an 'arsehole,' Bill," Theodoric remarked.

"From you, that sounds like what you Americans call 'fightin' words.'" Bill rolled up the sleeves of the denim robes he was wearing over his t-shirt. "Maria, I'm sorry, but I have to castrate your husband now."

Bill's almost boyish grin didn't hide what Jen recognized as cold hatred and a brave longing for justice. It showed in his eyes, green ones, the same color as her own.

"There's been enough castrating this week, Billy. You'd find it a messy job."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Maria, I haven't introduced you to Theodoric. He's a fellow Auror from-"

"They've met. I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but you and my mother have something to talk about." Jen made to walk off, taking Theodoric with her, but her fiancee stopped her from going any further.

"Jen, I don't think you should go."

"Theo, what are you-?"

"Pardon me, darling." Theodoric pulled off Jen's hat, revealing the brilliant red of her hair. 

"Theodoric!"

"Billy, get a really good look at Jenny's hair." There was a tense silence as Bill obeyed his friend.

"Maria!" Bill spoke nervously, not sure what to make of this. "So she's-?"

"Yours, yes." Maria Catesby Blodgett looked even more frightened than when Bill had first met her some seventeen-odd years ago. "I wanted to tell you, but-"

"Well, I know now...Theo told me." Bill looked at Jen in total astonishment, and slowly reached up to touch the telltale Weasley hair. "You're Hermione's kids' friend, right? They switched you to Gryffindor?"

"Yes, sir." Jen answered respectfully from force of habit.

"I'm...well, Jennifer, I guess I'm your father."

"And...I guess I'm your kid."

Bill offered an awkward handshake, which quickly turned into a less awkward hug.

"Explains why Muggles fascinate you, eh, Jenny?" Theodoric asked, looking rather pleased with himself. "By the way, Billy, I have one last question."

"Eh, Theo?"

"I know I asked earlier...may I marry your daughter, Bill?"

There was a more than shocked silence.

"Er...can I get to know her first, Theo?" Bill put an arm around Jen to walk up to the school, then suddenly, he put his other one around Maria. Silently, he leaned his forehead against hers, and then the two adults kissed gently.

"You could have told me...I wouldn't have been angry."

"Are you?" Jen and Theodoric tastefully withdrew.

"No." Bill hugged Maria close. "Are you still happy?"

"I haven't been since..."

"Then you will be soon," the redhaired Gryffindor promised, walking Maria up to the castle, taking shorter strides to match hers. "By the way, does Jen like Muggle films at all?"

******************************************************************** 

A/N: Next chapter will include the Gryffindor Support Group for People Whose Parents Didn't Know They Existed Until Recently, the first tricks with Mitchie's new Time-Turner, and Sev, Bill, Ron, Donaghan and Draco all getting drunk. No amnesia, I promise.  
-Jan McN.


	74. TwentySix Years After Catastrophe

Chapter Seventy-Four: Twenty-Six Years After Catastrophe

"A.J., can you get this tie on me?" J.R. asked. 

"How the heck am _I _supposed to know how to tie these things?"

"Well, _your_ sister wants us to put 'em on!"

"Boys, calm down." A.J.'s Aunt Ginny had appeared in the nick of time as usual. "Here." Deftly she tied Albus Julian and James Ronald's ties, with all the expertise she had gained in doing the Boy Who Lived's since they had been married. "There. Are either of you choking?"

"Gaaack!" J.R. joked, pretending to asphyxiate quite convincingly.

"Good." Ginny started to leave to go tackle the groomsmen's ties. "They look better when you're about to die."

"Aunt Ginny?" A.J. asked. "Where did I leave the rings?"

"You didn't!" Ginny went ashen and began to look around. "Albus Julian, if you've lost-"

"Got you!" J.R. produced the rings from his own pocket. 

"Honestly, you're worse than your cousins, James! No more sleepovers with Tom and Tim if you boys keep bringing home bad habits."

"Is Aunt Judy going to be there, too?" A.J. asked.

"Yes, of course she will. Whyever wouldn't she be?"

"Well, Aunt Cissy said-"

"Your Aunt Narcissa thinks pregnant ladies are incapable of riding brooms, let alone being in weddings. Don't take her to heart." Ginny adjusted the boys' boutonnières and finally pronounced them ready. "Now for Merlin's sake don't spill anything on yourselves."

"Mitchie already charmed our suits," J.R. pointed out, shaking a powdered donut over his sleeve. Sure enough, the sugary crumbs seemed to bounce right off. 

"Smart girl. I can't believe she's all grown up and getting married-"

_"Mum!"_ J.R. looked at his mother in surprise. "Don't tell me you're going to cry too!"

"Well, what _else_ do mothers do at weddings?" Ginny asked, looking a little ticked.

"Here, Aunt Ginny." A.J. handed her a flask. "It'll calm your nerves." Ginny trustingly took a sip and then stared at her nephew.

"Albus Julian Snape!" She picked up a glass of water and swallowed half. "Who gave you Firewhiskey?"

"Theodoric. He said to give it to anyone who looked like they might cry."

"Southerners!" Ginny cursed, taking another sip of the alcohol. "Don't drink any of it yourself. You'll stunt your growth."

That wouldn't have been too bad, actually. At nearly eleven, Albus Julian Snape was already shaping up to his father's build, which meant he was taller than any other going-to-be first years. His twin cousins Lily and Hermione loved the fact that he was so tall, as it gave them somebody to dance with besides J.R. The two honorary cousins were best friends and already as notorious as J.R.'s father and Uncle Ron for getting into mischief. Their other close companion was nine-year-old Katie Malfoy, a sweet-seeming little redhead with a Southern American accent and a real predilection for Slytherinish tricks. She would be entering Hogwarts early in the boys' class, which was a good thing as she already knew how to fly and was shaping up to be quite the young Seeker. A.J.'s own big sister had taught Katie to fly with him and J.R., and he didn't mind the verdict that Katie could out-Seek him. He wanted to be a Beater like his dad. 

"Why, if y'all aren't just the handsomest Brits alive!" Katie observed, coming in with open bottles of thorn soda for her friends. "All we need's a set and you could be Algy and Jack."

"Speak for yourself, Cecily," J.R. replied. "I haven't seen _you_ in a dress since you last tore your overalls."

"Peasant," Katie snapped, trying desperately to make the ladylike dress look a little less so. "I saw your sister, A.J., she looks nice."

"Mitchie? Has she got the white dress on?"

"Not that one. But yes, Mitchie looks wonderful, complaining she's a snow beast and everything."

"Julie's here?" J.R. asked, his face lighting up like Christmas had come early. A.J. grinned and stifled a laugh, knowing that in J.R.'s eyes Julie Starcatcher Snape was nothing less than the perfect female creature. To say his friend had a crush would be minimizing it.

"Well, _naturally_, it's her sister's wedding and all-"

J.R. and A.J. were already gone, looking for the famous female Auror. Katie sighed.

_"Men."_

"You sounded just like your mother there," Aunt Ginny observed, hiding some mints in her purse for later. "How is she?"

"Oh, Mother? You mean the redheaded one who flirts with Daddy as if they were bloody teenagers?"

"That sounds like my Jen, alright."

"It's disgusting! Have you ever tried explaining why your grandparents just got married last year even though you're nine? Or how your Aunt Ginny turned out to really be your great-aunt?"

"It could be worse."

"No, it couldn't! I'm the only redhaired Malfoy in the world!"

"Well, your mother's a Weasley."

"That in itself is weird! Uncle Draco doesn't take any of this seriously, either. He thinks it's funny."

"Well, it is." Ginny offered Katie a lipstick, which she frowned at in disgust. "Malfoys and Weasleys were enemies for so long, you really are kind of a funny end."

"_Honestly_, though! A.J.'s mother was a Gryffindor and his dad's the Slythiest Slytherin on the earth, but people don't laugh at him!"

"Katie, they aren't laughing at you _personally_," Ginny pointed out. "They're laughing at two old families who have just been proved wrong by their descendents. It's like if Romeo and Juliet had had a kid. And people laughed when his big sister turned up, believe you me. In about ten years' time, people will be so used to your parents being a couple, it won't be anything."

"How did Julie Snape put up with it?"

"Well, she had kind of a unique solution to the problem. She was a Granger and a Snape, but she acted more like your Uncle Harry than anyone. She also joked about it like a Weasley, and did _that_ make her father mad!"

"I bet she never got pissed and tried to change her name."

"Not change my name, but I _did_ get awfully pissed sometimes," Julie pointed out, walking in the door in her bridesmaid's dress. "How's the flying been in this weather, Kate?"

"Spiff, actually. I love a good headwind."

"Seen my brother and cousin anyplace?"

"They went to look for you."

"Figures. What was Mitchie thinking with these dresses, eh?" Katie brightened, seeing that Julie didn't like dressing up, either. "At least all the boys are in kilts, so we aren't alone in having our butts frozen."

"Kilts?" Katie's eyes went wide. "Are you serious?"

"She's springing it on A.J. and J.R. right now, I bet. They won't be too pleased, if I know them. Grandfather Donalbein is coming, and Mitchie's doing it to please him, I think. That, or she just thinks guys in kilts are hot. How's your mum?"

Julie said all of this very fast, but Katie understood.

"Probably shagging Dad in one of the confessionals."

"Katie Scarlett Julia Michelle Hermione Narcissa Weasley-Malfoy!" Ginny chastised. "That is not funny!"

"So that's what the noise was," Julie remarked absently. "Thought so."

******************************************************************** 

"Why do we have to wear kilts?" J.R. protested. "We look like girls."

"No, you don't." Mitchie pointed out. "You look like hardy Scottish men."

"I like mine," A.J. admitted. "At least we don't have to wear tight jeans."

"Whenever did you have to wear tight jeans?" Mitchie asked. "Oh, right. When I did the laundry, yeah." It was a running family joke that Mitchie shrunk everything. "Well, I _could_ have decided to have this wedding with a glam-rock theme."

"Will Julie ever get married, do you think?" A.J. asked. J.R. looked slightly perturbed at this.

"You know, A.J., I don't think your sister's serious enough about anything right now." Mitchie tried to zip up the back of her dress, but A.J. helped her before she took out her wand. 

"She beat all those Dark wizards, didn't she?" J.R. defended. "That's serious."

"Yes, but I don't think she took them seriously. She never does anymore. That's how she manages to not get killed." Mitchie sighed at her own reflection. "I'm a snow beast." She took a big gulp of soda and turned back to the boys. "Julie might just take awhile to get serious about someone, like your dad, A.J., but I think she will get married eventually. Know what, I dare you to ask her that."

"She'll kill him," J.R. pointed out with a grin. "Julie Starcatcher's never fallen in love. She's too cool for that."

"Oh, no, I think she has," Mitchie smiled knowingly. 

"Who?" J.R. demanded to know.

"Look, boys, whether Julie ever gets married is one of your uncles' favorite bets. However, there is one bet about her I know you can win."

"What?" A.J. asked.

"Who the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be." Mitchie grinned. "Those Concord Grape dragons are supposed to be domestic enough to ride."

"Naw!" J.R. was amazed. "Think she'll let us pet 'em and everything?"

A.J. was lost in thought. His sister was a jet-setting Auror and international celebrity. Whenever had she fallen in love? He saw Mitchie every day, but Julie was usually traveling about the world righting wrongs and doing espionage work. He knew that Mitchie knew Julie best of anyone, so she must be right, but who could the man have been? Donaghan and Mitchie had been together since God was in short pants, so it couldn't be him, and the same went for Aunt Jen and Uncle Theodoric, who were married and so in love it made their daughter Katie nauseous sometimes. Surely it couldn't be anyone he knew. Maybe one of Donaghan's Quidditch friends was the one! A.J. made up his mind to watch the groomsmen and his sister. He had to find out if one of them was the one she loved, and if so, whether she would ever get married and come stay in England with him. He missed his sister when she was off making him the envy of all the other kids his age. She was cool, but he really wished she would stay around sometimes.

******************************************************************* 

The ceremony was beautiful, as A.J. had expected. His usually stern father had almost cried, he thought, when he gave Mitchie away. Severus Snape was one of the most well respected wizards in Britain for good reason; for as a spy, a potions researcher, and lately headmaster of Hogwarts, he had accomplished much. Every wizard's child in the country had gotten a vaccine against lycanthropy because of Severus and Hermione Granger-Snape, and a painless form of Skele-Gro had repaired A.J.'s own knocked-out teeth when he crashed his broom. A.J. was a little startled to see his father squint as he kissed his adopted daughter on the cheek, but it was when Donaghan hugged Snape that he understood. 

Mitchie's real parents had been his father and mother's friends, and they had died when she was just a baby. The Snapes had adopted her on her sixteenth birthday, and A.J. had grown up with two sisters instead of one. His father must be wondering if his friends the Tylers could see how beautiful their daughter was today. That thought nearly made A.J. cry himself, and his Uncle Draco patted his shoulder.

Uncle Draco was actually no relation by blood, as were most of A.J.'s 'relatives.' He had been in his mother's class at school and was sort of like his dad's honorary son. By now his white-blond hair had a little gray in it, but A.J. knew he was still considered quite handsome. Uncle Draco was another person who should really get married, come to think of it. He would be A.J.'s Charms professor in the fall, and he sometimes looked so lonely it was sad.

Julie, who was standing opposite Uncle Draco with the bridesmaids, smiled. A.J. smiled back. With her long, black hair up and a dress of cinnamon brown, she looked exceptionally pretty. Mitchie, ever the artist, had designed the bridesmaids' dresses with identical black velvet bodices and skirts in iridescent colors that matched their eyes. Aunt Jen's skirt was green and Katie's was blue. Mitchie's wedding dress, an heirloom from some long-dead Snape or MacPhersen, had multitudes of tiny pearls on it, and in the enchanted light she looked rather like an auburn-haired angel. Donaghan couldn't take his eyes off her, and A.J. couldn't blame him.

"Will you love, honor and protect her, through sickness and health, rain and shine, poor and rich, until death do you part?"

"I will."

Donaghan had been like A.J.'s big brother forever. A.J. could remember the time he had burned his hand on a hot cauldron and Donaghan had told him stories while Mitchie mended it. He had forgotten the pain almost instantly. There were also the many happy afternoons spent looking for books and potions ingredients in Diagon and sometimes Knockturn Alley, for A.J.'s mother trusted Donaghan with her son anywhere. The fact that Donaghan and Mitchie were both werewolves was simply a fact of life, and A.J. knew full well that Donaghan had saved him from Acromantulas when he went into the Forbidden Forest at night looking for Great-Uncle Arthur's flying car. He knew Donaghan loved Mitchie more than life, and secretly looked forward to babysitting his nieces and nephews after they'd been married a few years.

"Will you love, honor and protect him, through sickness and health, rain and shine, poor and rich, until death do you part?"

"I will."

There was a loud sniff from the church somewhere. A.J. was betting it was either Great-Aunt Molly Weasley or Aunt Kitty-cat, as he had nicknamed Minerva McGonagall as a toddler. Judging by the way his godfather raised an eyebrow; it was Aunt Kitty-cat, alright.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Albus Dumbledore announced. Donaghan leaned over and kissed Mitchie. "Not yet!" They both went red. "Alright, _now_ you may kiss your bride."

Everyone applauded and the thirty or so house-elf guests did backflips and cheered. A.J. watched Donaghan and Mitchie hug and kiss all the relatives, including his mother and Aunt Ginny, both of whom were wiping away tears, Firewhiskey or none. MacAndrew Shannon and his wife Sweets cheered. A.J. had heard Sweets telling Katie how Donaghan and Mitchie had introduced her to her husband at least three times, and the fact that they were expecting their first baby led him to believe they were somewhat grateful. Tom and Tim Weasley started to throw rice, which turned into flowers in mid-air. Everyone caught one and disappeared. Instead of a Weasley joke, however, the flowers were essential parts of the ceremony –Portkeys to where the reception was being held.

************************************************************** 

"The reporters are already climbing the gates," Theodoric whispered to Snape as he appeared. "Shall I take care of them?"

"Yes," Severus replied shortly. "It's my daughter's wedding day. What are they doing here?"

"They're here _because_ it's your daughter's wedding day." Theodoric pointed out. 

"And here I thought it was for the food," Ron joked. "Dobby completely outdid himself with that cake. It's as tall as the Christmas tree."

"Is it just me or are the Creevey boys not supposed to be here?" Theodoric asked, rolling up his sleeves.

"Naw. Donaghan hired them to take pictures." Ron explained.

"I don't feel old." Snape remarked.

"Why should you?"

"I figure if I keep saying it, I'll believe myself."

"Come on! Mitchie and Donaghan are wonderful together!"

"I know just what you mean, sir," Theodoric said sympathetically. "You'll understand when you have a daughter, Ron."

"I have two. What's Julie's wedding going to be like?" Severus wondered despondently.

"Rather like this, only with a chocolate cake," Julie announced, coming up and kissing her dad on the cheek. "And maybe not kilts, at least if it's in wintertime."

"I always saw you eloping, Julie," Ron observed. "I mean, with all the traveling you do..."

"I don't think I'll ever want to get married, just fly about, save the world, and bring everybody's kids inappropriate presents." The female Auror grinned. "I'll be the Auntie Mame of Gryffindor."

"Mark my words, Julie, you'll be next," Theodoric remarked. "And you'll love it when you do."

The bride and groom entered before Julie had a chance to contradict the Southerner. Everyone took their seats at the tables, and the best man, Theodoric, made a speech.

"I met the bride when she was about thirteen. That was before she came to Hogwarts and met Donaghan. She played Quidditch, as most children in this country do, and as a Beater she had more injuries than anyone else on the team. Then someone announced to the school that she was a werewolf, and she wasn't allowed to play anymore. I was so angry I quit the team, partly because I felt it was unfair, and partly because we didn't have a chance in hell without Mitch playing.  
"After she stopped playing Quidditch, I didn't see Mitchie happy very often. Sure, she smiled and drew pictures and was the most irreverent female in the United States, but she wasn't really happy and we could tell. Then she flew off one day to Great Britain, and the next time I saw her, I almost didn't recognize my best friend. She was almost incandescent, the way she is right now, and I knew she had found a reason to love living, something even better than Quidditch. That reason is about six-three, a Chaser, and has a Scottish accent that's thicker than London fog.   
"Now, any man here who has female friends or sisters can understand why I didn't quite trust Donaghan to start. Noone trusts his best friend with any man at first. But when we were in America, waiting for fighting to start and maybe one of us to die, I saw the two of them together. They were sitting in one of those fat armchairs, with a notebook in Donaghan's hand and a drawing pad in Mitchie's. Every so often they would kiss each other or one would play with the other's hair. I knew that he would protect her from anything and she would protect him. Then some years ago, Donaghan asked me if I'd be his best man. I asked him 'why,' because we hadn't really talked that much, and he said because I knew Mitchie well. Then he asked me about a hundred questions about things she liked. We got to be pretty close friends during their engagement, which was longer than I think any pair of werewolves should have had to endure, and now I can say with the rest of us that these two people belong together."

Next, the maid of honor made her speech, as was wizarding tradition.

"I met Donaghan when I first came to Hogwarts, and we dated for awhile before we realized that _that_ was simply a bad idea. See, I had a nasty trick of wanting to play the field and have some fun, while Donaghan put all women on pedestals. I think it's a Scottish thing. Anyway, we had realized we were put on this earth to be friends, and suddenly Mitchie came along. The two of _us_ hit it off because we liked the same music, and things went uphill from there. When Mum and Dad adopted her, I was glad to have her as my sibling. But the first night Mitchie was at Hogwarts, sitting with the Gryffindors, she suddenly got this look on her face, as if everything in the world that a girl could want was across the table and three seats down. I noticed that Donaghan had the same look, and they've been arse-over-teakettle ever since. That's pretty much how it is with them. You see one and wonder where the other is. They're two halves of one, and since getting married is making one out of two, I think they chose each other perfectly."

Then, in accordance with wizarding and Scottish tradition, both sets of parents gave the couple gifts. Grandfather Donalbein's was typical of him, thirty bolts of McPhersen clan tartan, newly woven to include Tyler and Snape colors. The Snapes' gift was a little more English, but still rather typical of them –a restored cottage on three acres of the old Snape land within ten minutes' flight of Hogwarts, where both Donaghan and Mitchie taught. A.J. had visions of playing with his nieces and nephews there, all of them dressed in clan tartan clothes. He had been in on the cottage surprise and helped to decorate it with his Aunt Cissy, and he had also gone with Grandfather Donalbein to check on the weaving of the tartan. Part of Grandfather Donalbein's surprise in the gift was that when he said thirty bolts, he _didn't_ mention that he meant hundred-meter bolts. Nearly every sheep on the Peatbog moors had been shorn for his mischievous project. 

After dinner, the band began to play, and the dancing began. First Mitchie and Donaghan had their first dance together as a married couple, and then Donaghan danced with Hermione and Mitchie with Severus. Julie danced politely with each of the groomsmen, as did the other bridesmaids, and finally with her own brother.

"Julie?"

"Yeah, A.J.?"

"Are _you_ ever going to get married?" Well, Mitchie had dared him.

"I don't know...I might. More likely I'll just have a multitude of cats like Arabella Figg."

"Aunt Jen has a multitude of cats and she got married."

"That's just because our big brother Crookshanks misbehaved with Emmy." Julie sighed. "I don't know, little brother. I just might. How 'bout you?"

"I'm going to marry Katie Malfoy, I think."

"You do? Good lord, you're quick. Why her?"

"Because I'm lousy at Charms and she's great at it, but she can't transfigure to save her life." A.J. grinned. He thought it was a clever plan. "Why don't you marry J.R.?"

"Why? He's ten years old and I'm twenty-six!"

"It'd be a little like Mum and Dad in reverse."

"Albus Julian, you have some strange ideas."

"Well, how about Uncle Draco, then?"

"Why, you little-!"

"You could at least dance with him," A.J. pointed out, indicating the blond man who had just walked up to them. "Here she is."

And without further ado, Julie Snape found herself neatly in the arms of her ex for a rapid swing number. The look she shot her brother over Draco's shoulder was beyond priceless.

"A.J.," Mitchie whispered in his ear a moment later, "that was brilliant."

"What was?"

"Look at them. Did you know they dated once?" 

_"Uncle Draco?"_ A.J. was shocked. "Do you think that they-?"

"Totally. Arse-over-teakettle." Mitchie gave her little brother a hug. "Well, may I have this dance?"

"Certainly, Mrs. McPhersen."

******************************************************************** 

The End.


End file.
